Raising Sherlock
by Yumi-wheeler
Summary: In the face of a tragedy, John and Mary have to be strong for their new ward, Sherlock Holmes. Deaged, they have to give him the childhood he never had while figuring out how to bring back their own Sherlock. Sherlock's parent's bashing, slight Mycroft bashing. Don't like Don't read. Warnings for miscarriages. Rated for many things.
1. Chapter 1

67 Chapter 1

DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK OR ANY OF THE OTHER CHARACTERS!

Okay I am one of the people that signed up with Sherlock having rotten parents and so I'm pretending they still are. Creative license and all that. If any one is interesting in beta'ing please let me know. Otherwise flames will be used to burn Mycroft's umbrella. Also for my purposes this runs a bit fast time wise. Fair warning.

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It started with a curious package. Had John been paying closer attention, he never would have allowed Sherlock to open the simple brown box entitled with nothing more than his name. John, however, was in a terrible place along with his wife Mary.

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Mary had recently woken up with excruciating craps and blood running down her thighs. John had run her to the hospital. Not five minutes after they arrived the doctors had brought her out back, forcing John to stay in the waiting area. The doctor paced anxiously biting his lip staring at the doors waiting for any sort of news. Hurried footsteps caught his attention and he turned recognizing them as belonging to his best friend, Sherlock Holmes. The consulting detective looked at him with a tinge of worry before moving to stand in front of him.

"I came as soon as I could, have you heard anything?"

John's voice hitched as he responded."No she just went in, they won't let me in. I don't know what happened, I just woke to her screaming. There was blood and..." Unable to finish his sentence, he leapt forward, head resting on Sherlock's shoulder. The scratchy wool of his belstaff comforting as he felt a few tears escape. His arms were wrapped around his friend, and distantly he was surprised when he felt Sherlock's arms envelope him in a return hug.

John wasn't sure how long he stayed in the other man's arms. Sherlock kept quiet, his breathing seemed quicker than normal but John knew he wasn't used to physical contact and he appreciated his effort to comfort his friend. John just stood taking in the quiet calm of his friend, smelling the scent of chemicals and the spicy mint that made up Sherlock's cologne. He heard the squeak of someone down the hallway, and a tap tapping following with it. He didn't move, his mind to focused on what was going on with his wife and child.

"Sherlock, have they told you anything." John started when he heard Mycroft's voice, he pulled away looking up with red rimmed eyes, squinting at the older man who fumbled with his umbrella.

The man as usual was dressed in an immaculate black suit, white shirt pressed. What surprised him was the distinctly uncomfortable face. John glanced at Sherlock, whose face was sad and stressed but not uncomfortable. Its when he realized how far Sherlock had come from his brother. Sherlock had let people in, allowed himself to care. Something that Mycroft often teased the other man for. Shaking from his thoughts he looked once more as Sherlock replied in the negative and Mycroft allowed his cool mask to fall once more.

"Give me a moment. "

He straightened into his government pose and marched to the desk. He leaned in and appeared to say only a couple of words. The overtired looking nurse, hair frazzled and circles under her eyes went completely pale and jumped up running for the back.

In the time that it took Mycroft to walk back over to them, the nurse ran back, a doctor running after her, eyes wide.

"Ah good Doctor. My dear friend here needs to know what is happening with his wife and child. Now, if you please." Mycroft's face was steel although his voice was mild as if ordering takeout.

"Mr. uh Watson?" The doctor asked nervously, eyeing the two stony faced brothers flanking the shorter man.

"Doctor Watson." Sherlock snapped suddenly, his ice eyes glancing at the quivering doctor with distaste. He only looked away when John placed a hand on his arm and nodded at the doctor to continue.

"Do-doctor then, I -I was just about to come out to you. I'm...I'm terribly sorry, but the baby didn't make it."

John felt his heart drop, eyes glazed in tears as he stared at the man. Distantly he heard Sherlock snap.

"What about his wife?"

The doctor jumped before adding. "She's resting, but physically she's going to be fine."

John felt lightheaded, he wasn't sure if he would be able to continue standing. He barely moved when he felt a hand grip his arm steadying him. He leaned heavily against Sherlock, unsure what to do.

Finally he realized that Sherlock was tugging his arm and speaking to him. He turned trying to focus on his friend.

"...go see Mary?" He caught enough to understand and nodded his head frantically.

Sherlock simply nodded back. Gripping John's arm once more, he lead him down the hall after the doctor, glaring when he noticed the nurse tried to argue. She eeped and just watched as the shorter man followed the tall man with the flowing jacket down the hall. All she could think was how lucky he was to have someone like that on his side.

Passing dark rooms with beeping, blinking machines, John frantically looked into each on trying to find Mary. The smell of disinfectant, usually comforting, was making him nauseous. Finally after what seemed like years, Sherlock gently stopped him and directed him to a room on the right. He guided him in. The room had a light on in the corner, the beige walls caused the occupant of the bed to seem even paler than she actually was. And Mary Watson was very pale. Her blond hair lay limply on the crisp white pillow case. Her eyelashes lay black against her white cheeks, face screwed up in agony. She was hooked up to a couple machines the blipped away in the background. John stumbled over to her gripping her cold hand tightly in his. There was a lump in his throat and burning in his eyes. The world felt surreal, he pulled the wood backed chair closer and sat head down. Only to shoot back up when he heard the door open. He didn't have to look to know that Sherlock was trying to slip out.

"Stay." He said."Please." He relaxed when he heard the door close and the footsteps from the other man come back into the room and stand behind him. He sighed studying his wife unhappily with the strong presence of his best friend behind him. He didn't know how they were going to survive this. How did you survive losing your child? Especially so suddenly and violently. A hand on his shoulder brought him from his depressed spiral of thoughts.

"Thank you Sherlock." He whispered quietly squaring himself and pushing away his emotions. Right now Mary needed him, later they could both grieve but for now he needed to be strong and he was thankful to Sherlock for helping bring him back to himself.

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Mary had stayed in the hospital for three days. She was quiet and depressed but was insistent she wanted to deal with everything at home. When they were sure that she was healed and that she was eating solid food, they suggested a psychiatrist for the two of them and with nothing more they were able to do, they released her. John hadn't left her side the entire three days. Sherlock came back and forth with clothes, and food supplies for the older man, being silently supportive but not really sure what to say. He had allowed Mary to hug him and cry on his shoulder at one point when John had disappeared to use the loo and get a tea. He had held her tight, eyes blank as he tried not to allow his emotions to overwhelm him while he comforted her. When John walked back in, Mary pulled away and stroked his face gently in thanks before turning a watery smile on her husband. Soon after the man disappeared out of the door and his friends stared after him worriedly. He was coming to pick them up, so maybe they could get him to talk then.

John helped Mary out of her wheelchair outside. Tedious paperwork had been signed and well wishes given by their colleagues. They agreed now they just wanted to find Sherlock and get home. Looking up he noticed DI Lestrade, Sergeant Donovan, and surprisingly Anderson standing near a police issued van. Eye quirked John led Mary up to Lestrade.

"We were out on a case. Sherlock texted and said he was being held up and you two needed a ride home." He shrugged almost amazed at the changes in Sherlock because of the two people in front of him.

The two nodded and Mary allowed Sally to help her into the van. It was relatively silent on the drive, but John did ask a couple questions about the case. Turns out Sherlock had not accepted the case because he was busy with other things. The Watsons looked at each other nervously at that. Sherlock had been back and forth at the hospital, but other than that what could he have been doing? The last time he'd said he was "busy" John had found him in a drug house.

Their confusion was raised even more when outside their apartment building sat one of Mycroft's many cars. Conspicuously empty of Anthea or a driver. Shrugging the couple and their escorts went in and wandered down the pale yellow halls of the apartment building, trying to keep from shuffling their feet and the pale pink carpet so as to maybe hear what was going on in their apartment. About two doors down they began to hear why Mycroft had shown up. His raised voice caused John to jump, he'd never heard Mycroft speak any higher than required for polite conversation.

"You are a disgrace! I told you caring wasn't an advantage, that it would get you hurt. What will it take for you to understand there is no one in the world that cares about you? Mother and Father's treatment of you isn't enough? How about the fact he dropped you for that woman? Then you got yourself excited about that child and it left too. You are bad luck! You are a damaged sociopath and are incapable of being loved." Mycroft's voice was like venom oozing poison at his victim whom in this case happened to be his own younger brother.

"Mycroft, get out. They're going to be here soon." Mary gripped John's arm, Sherlock's voice was quiet and seemed almost broken somehow. The two shot angry looks at each other. The man in there was torturing his younger brother and using their child to do it. John rushed forward, bursting into his apartment. Looking wildly he found Mycroft and had him pinned to the wall before the man could move.

"I am a very dangerous man the best of times." He hissed at the government official. "But you are messing with two very important things to me right now. Sherlock and my...my child." He felt tears coming to his eyes once more. "What the hell is wrong with you? Saying those things!"

He didn't notice the choking noise Mycroft was making until he felt a gentle hand take his shoulder.

"John its not worth it." He heard Sherlock's baritone voice say from directly behind him.

"He is if he hurts you." John snapped back.

Sherlock sighed. "John let him go. You are angry and you are over reacting."

At this John did release the man and spin to his friend, he was ready to yell about how sticking up for his best friend wasn't overreacting before he took a look at the other man's face. He had a wild uncomfortable look and his eyes were darting at everyone in the room. He kept looking at John pleadingly. Then the doctor realized. Sherlock was embarrassed by what the other man had said in front of his friends and colleagues. He wanted him to go away but didn't want to cause a scene. A scene that John had effectively caused anyway. He nodded once at his friend whose relief became palpable before doing an army about face to the other man.

"You get out of my house, Sherlock will be staying here with us for the foreseeable future. He's agreed to help out." Sherlock had agreed to no such thing, but they needed each other especially now, so he would quiet any arguments the other man may have. "You will stay away from us and you will stay away from him, unless he says otherwise. We know important people too, and you know we will put up a hell of a fight."

Mycroft took a step back from the raw anger and pain coming from the shorter man. He seemed to be seething with his own anger and something else that John couldn't pinpoint and at this moment didn't particularly have a care to try to name.

"Fine, don't say I didn't warn you about the what do you call him?" He turned to Donovan at this. "Ah yes, the freak."

Gripping his umbrella tightly, the only physical indication of his anger and frustration, before stalking gracefully from the apartment. John stared after him seriously debating not just letting him get away with it. Truly what was the mans problem? Three days ago he was helping them get Mary comfortable and making sure visiting hours didn't apply to himself and Sherlock and now...well he would give him the benefit of having a stressful job and leave him be. But he would be keeping a closer eye on his interactions with Sherlock from now on.

"What a horrible man!" Mary exclaimed taking a seat on her sofa. "Are you alright Sherlock?" She asked concerned.

"I'm fine!" He snapped fiddling with a brown box that suddenly seemed to appear in his hand. John glanced at it, noticing the only markings on it were Sherlock's name in a handwriting he didn't recognize from anyone that would normally send Sherlock anything. He was about to say something when a gasp from his wife redirected his attention.

Mary had gone to seat herself on their couch and get more comfortable, but she had forgotten that they had been sorting through the baby shower today gifts that night and apparently one small outfit had been left out. She clutched it in a white knuckle grip her other hand reaching to cover her mouth in her distress.

"Oh my baby." Her voice shuddered as her sobs began. John sat next to her, taking the dress and setting it aside as he wrapped her in his arms, his own tears beginning. He noticed the three escorts were standing around unsure of what to do, Sherlock was sitting at the table with his package. The agony ripped through him as he realized there would be no child, there would be no games, days at the park, no hugs and cuddles. No little feet pattering in the morning. He felt like his heart was ripping out of his body, his spine bowing with the weight of what he lost. Whenever he felt like he could stop, Mary would sniffle and he'd start all over again. It felt as though they were drowning and nothing to save them.

That was until the bang.

The two stood up quickly ready to abandon the room, but were stopped by the image in the corner of the room. A purple smoke billowed where Sherlock had just been standing.

'Nononono!" John screamed in his head as he skidded over there, coughing as he went through the smoke.

"Sherlock!" He croaked. "Sherlock are you alright? Dammit!" He nearly stepped on something, stumbling back, he hit his knees and felt around. He could feel Sherlock's coat, he tugged it towards him. It was heavy but not as heavy as it should be. He really hoped, and he never had before, that Sherlock had been neglecting his eating habits again.

Tugging the jacket and heavy object free from the smoke he heard gasps from everyone in the room before looking, his own jaw dropping. Laying there, pooled in Sherlock's clothes was a child. John blinked to be sure. The child had alabaster skin, much like Sherlock, he had curly black locks, much like Sherlock, from the bit of bare chest John could see, he could tell the child was absolutely emaciated, much like Sherlock looked if he neglected himself too long. What got the army doctor though was the bruises covering the boys face and pieces of skin he could see. Somehow he knew that he couldn't blame the explosion either. Clearly on his face, and neck were finger marks. Someone had grabbed this child by his face and neck at least.

"Oh please no." He whispered, but he knew that it was false hope. Everyone had seen Sherlock standing over there, they'd seen him just before the explosion and here this child was after the fact. Someone had done this to him but why? And how?

His medical training finally kicked in, and he knelt next to the boy, barking orders as he went.

"Mary we need warm water, towels and a first aid kit. Lestrade call that no good brother of Sherlock's and get him back here. Sally in the room down the hall to the left grab me the pillows and a blanket. Anderson, make tea!"

As the rest scrambled to do as they were told, John slowly reached a hand out to the little boy before him. The boys face was grimaced, as if he was fearful even in his sleep. John's heart dropped a bit at this. He remembered what Mycroft had screamed before he'd run in. Had Sherlock's parents abused him? How could that be, he'd met them, they'd seemed so ordinary, so nice. Suddenly John wondered if the real reason they had never been at Sherlock's funeral wasn't because they knew he wasn't dead but because they didn't care. He forcefully took his focus off that. There was no reason to jump to conclusions until Mycroft got there.

Acknowledging his wife's return, John began by removing the boy from Sherlock's oversized clothes. He felt his anger come back as he saw the rest of him. His body was bruised, his arms and wrists had more finger marks, his chest and back were marked with what looked like a whip of some kind.

"Oh Sherlock." He whispered."Alright I need a towel and that water." He was very glad that Mary was a nurse. While she was clearly upset by the state Sherlock was in, she quickly and proficiently handed him what he needed.

When Sally came back he had her set the pillows and blanket on the couch before shooing her off to assist Anderson. He was sure he could see tears as she looked down at his little patient.

Moving on from cleaning the wounds, he found that there were only two wounds that were in need of stitches. Deciding against the local as the boy was unconscious anyway, he quickly and neatly stitched before closing the kit and motioning for the blanket. Wrapping the boy up so he was covered and warm, John held him bridal style determining what to do. Deciding he didn't want Sherlock to be alone on the couch when Mycroft came in he sat adjusting the pillows on his leg and over his arm, placing Sherlock's head there and allowing him to lay across his lap so his legs were on the couch, while John's were set on the floor. One arm cradled the pillows and the child's head while the other held Sherlock gently by the middle. Trying to give him the unconscious feeling of safety while that the same time making sure that no one could take the boy from him. He wasn't losing anyone else.

Silence reigned the flat after that. Sally and Anderson had come back with tea, they were seated on a couple of kitchen chairs nearby sipping and studying the child every once and a while. Mary had shifted Sherlock's legs into her lap so that she was close to John and him. No one moved until the door finally opened revealing Lestrade, Mycroft and...John stiffened when he saw the boys parents standing behind them.

"Well well." Mycroft said simply his eyes deducing the room. "He played with something he shouldn't." His face almost seemed to deflate when he noticed the wounds, but it went back to cold in a matter of seconds.

"I'm not doing it again!" It was the father, his face looking disgusted at his newly deaged son. "Once was enough with that bloody freak. I"m not doing it again! I won't promise not to kill him this time around. No punishment could put manners in that little demon's head." He turned to his wife, face full of rage. "No!"

Simpering she walked up to him, and patted his arm. "Dear he is no longer our responsibility. There is no where it says you have to take care of a mistake twice."

John couldn't believe what he was hearing. He murmured something soothing to Sherlock who had begun to shift in his sleep.

"Don't bother comforting him."The mother said. "He will just disappoint you. We tried everything to make him normal and as you well know it didn't work."

John pulled the figure closer, anger pooling, eyes going red. This woman appeared to honestly think she was doing him a favor by warning him against the young boy. Adult Sherlock was difficult to be sure but he was the easiest person in the world to love if only for the fact he didn't expect to be liked never mind loved.

"What did you do to him?" He spat hatefully.

"If we tell you." Mycroft cut in. "There are a few conditions. First of all my parents will leave, there will be no arrest. Second we will have nothing to do with him. Do we agree?"

John looked piercingly at Lestrade. At this point it was really too late to arrest them but they did need the information.

"Fine." Lestrade added. The detective was clearly very angry himself. He had known Sherlock since he was a teenager and more open to emotions than he was now. He cared for the consulting detective and knew some about his past. He hadn't known that he didn't have a safe home growing up and it killed him.

"BUT SIR!" Donavan began before her superior shushed her with a pointed look. She quieted down but looked angrily at the older people in front of them.

"The freak was never a receptive child. You know him, he blurts out deductions without thinking things through. He experiments on everything. He doesn't understand a social cues or what's proper no matter how often he's told. He's been nothing but a disappointment. I've used belts, whips, sticks, frying pans and my fists to beat sense into him." The father said almost gleefully.

"I tried locking him away in the closet when he did something wrong, we kept food from him as a punishment, kept him from sleeping to try and slow him down. Nothing worked. He really was a mistake."

The room just stared at the two parents, unsure what to say. The silence was broken by a crack. Mary had stood and slapped the mother across the face.

"How dare you! How dare you take such a gift and throw it away. You had a child. A child who despite everything the three of you have done to him, is very loving, generous and sweet when he feels he can be! How could you!" She screeched tears at her own loss and the un-justice of one of her best friends shaking her core.

"Just...just get out." John said quietly, cuddling his friend closer, unable to wrap his mind around everything his friend had been through. He was amazed he was still living. Being tortured at school, and work but then to find out there hadn't even been a reprieve at home. They would work to bring his Sherlock back but while they were with the child version, he would know a better way of growing up. Sherlock wasn't the only one who could make a vow, and this was John's.

"Yea well we already told you the mistake you were making. If you want to keep him, good luck." Sherlock's father sneered before taking his wife's hand and tugging her out. "Coming Mycroft?" He called.

"Just be a moment father. Government business never ends." His father nodded before finally leaving the flat.

Mycroft reached into his coat and pulled out a long piece of leather. John thought after a moment that it must be a wallet. Opening it, he pulled something out and reached to hand it too John.

"Whatever you may think of me, I did it to protect Sherlock so he wouldn't be betrayed again like he was with our parents. This is to help with his care until he is returned to his correct size. No limit." John considered leaving it, but decided he should take it in case. He didn't want to have to use the prat's money to take care of his friend, but no use in not taking a back up.

He nodded coldly at Mycroft, who simply put his wallet away and turned walking out. Everyone sat for a few moments not quite sure what to do next.

Lestrade shifted and decided to speak first.

"Well I suppose we should head back to Scotland Yard. Give us a call if you need a hand yea?" He said to John and Mary waiting for their nods before motioning to Donovan and Anderson to follow him out.

Sally stopped in the doorway. "Me too yea? I know I wasn't nice but... well I wish to make it up to him if I can. Even a little." She turned before they responded, trying to hide the tears in her eyes.

Mary stood looking down upon her husband and the child they had gained in the wake of their own loss. She'd loved the man dearly but now her maternity instincts had kicked in. If anyone tried to hurt her Sherlock again, they would find the dark side of Mary Morston Watson very quickly.

"Well dear." She said waiting for John to look up at her." I suppose we should ask Mrs. Hudson if we can move to 221B. Two bedrooms, and someone to help look after him."

John was reminded once again why he loved this woman. He was still back in punching people land, she was already three steps into the future. "Good idea love. We'll go over right now, I'm sure she'll be thrilled once we convince her who this is. She may even go kids shopping with you." He wouldn't dare leave Sherlock with anyone else. He'd always had a special bond with the detective and it had only solidified more when he looked down at the small painfilled face.

Packing what they would need for a few days, they had made their way to Sherlock's flat. Mrs. Hudson was surprising easy to convince that the child in front of her was Sherlock. John supposed she had been expecting something strange for years with all of his experimentation. As John had predicted she'd been delighted to have them take the flat.

"I've been so worried about him being alone up here. Never sleeps, never eats. It's not healthy." Before immediately agreeing to go out and get some essentials for the a young boy.

"How old is the dear?" She asked. John gave a sharp look at Mary. Of all the questions they should have asked.

PING it seemed a Holmes brother was one step ahead again. John shifted Sherlock into one arm, his head on John's shoulder as he reached for his phone.

-He's seven for reference of supplies. I apologize for not telling you sooner. MH-

"Seven." John had said, watching the girls go on their way, Mycroft's credit card in hand.

Sighing, he decided to make himself comfortable as he waited for the boy to wake. Finally settling himself in his old chair he cuddled Sherlock to his chest and put his head back to stare at the ceiling. Even without trying Sherlock managed to distract John from his own problems. He knew that the loss of his own child was very raw and he and Mary had rough times ahead. But he also knew with the responsibility of their child friend it wouldn't be as bad as it could have been if it was all they were thinking about. Where they going to be a good replacement? He had no doubt that Sherlock was a difficult child. He was a difficult adult, and it didn't help how his parents treated him. But he knew that he couldn't give up on his friend as everyone else had done.

John started from his thoughts as the figure on his chest began to stir. He studied him, as the little boy yawned sweetly his blue grey eyes starting to open, still blurry with sleep.

"My?"His high pitched voice questioned before he stiffened. Finally realizing he wasn't with his big brother. The boy skittered backwards. John grabbed him enough to place him so he wouldn't crash to the floor before releasing him and allowing the boy to push himself backwards looking at him fearfully.

"Don' wha'ever I did 'm sorry." John would probably have awed at how cute Sherlock's speech was. He couldn't seem to say his t's very well and had a little lisp. But the moment was lost by the words the child did say. It was that bad that he was apologizing for nothing, the doctor wanted to growl but he held it in focusing on the child.

John put his hands out in a surrender gesture before sliding to the floor, sitting indian style.

"I'm not going to hurt you Sherlock." He said quietly.

An angry look tinged Sherlock's face. "How' d you know my name? Where's Mycrof?!"

How was he going to explain this to a child? Especially one that was an adult a few hours ago. As he reached for an answer the boys eyes darted, he appeared to be trying to deduce what was going on, and his breathing quickened when he realized he couldn't.

"Sherlock I need you to breath deeper and slow it down. Can you do that for me?"

The boys breathing quickened, he was paling which darkened his bruises on his skin. His eyes no longer stayed in one place. Throwing caution to the wind John slid over to the boy picking him up. Ignoring the huge flinch the boy gave, he placed the boys hand against his chest and his own hand against the boys.

"Sherlock can you feel me breathing? Copy me. You need to calm down please." Finally realizing that the stranger seemed to be trying to help, Sherlock did as he was asked and calmed his breathing. Still gasping a bit, he never the less didn't have John worried he was going to pass out anytime soon.

"To answer your questions, your brother had you removed from your parents. He didn't like that they were hurting you. We are friends of his and he decided that we would be able to take care of you better." Not completely a lie but the whole truth would probably be damaging.

Sherlock looked at him, eyes sad and just a little bit wet. "He didn' wan' me ei'her?" He asked almost too quiet to hear.

"No, that's not it. He works for the government. He's gone to much, he didn't want you to be alone either. I know you don't know me or my wife and have no reason to trust us. But just keep in your mind that your brother picked us out to care for you."

"Wife?" The small voice piped up.

"Yes her name is Mary. She went out with our landlady to get you some clothes, so you don't have to stay wrapped in the blanket. You were hurt, and Mycroft got you out, but he didn't bring anything with him."

Sherlock nodded a bit, before scooting himself backwards into the corner again. He continued to study John but said nothing more. John wondered if he should speak or what he should do. Finally he decided that perhaps Sherlock would do something normal for himself. He figured the safest would be to offer him a book. Standing slowly and moving carefully away from the watchful boy he moved to Sherlock's bookshelves. Scanning them he found a dusty chemistry book on the bottom shelf. Pulling it out he realized it was a high school book. He wondered on Sherlock keeping something so old, but filed it away for something else to ask the adult Sherlock when he came back. Turning he focused on the present Sherlock whose big eyes were staring fearfully up at him, flinching unconsciously at every step John took towards him. Stopping a couple feet away, he went to his knees before slowly reaching the book out to the boy.

"Something to look at while we wait?" He offered. He watched the calculations cross Sherlock's face. Should he trust this man? No but he hadn't harmed him yet and he was offering him a book. Normally it would have been thrown at him. Taking a breath, and deciding to be brave for My, he reached out a hand and took the book. Snatching it and backing up eyes closed waiting. After several moments when nothing happened he opened his eyes to see John looking at him sadly. For some reason deep down Sherlock didn't like seeing the man so sad. Unable to quite understand it he decided he wanted to make him feel better.

"Thank you siw." He said quietly, feeling lighter when a small smile came to the man's face.

"You're welcome Sherlock. But you can call me John. I probably should have introduced myself before. Stupid me." Again Sherlock felt the need to step in.

"No' s'upid, jus busy." He mumbled, lightening when once again the man smiled.

"Hmm I suppose you are right. But that doesn't surprise me. Anyway I am John Watson."

"Pleasure." Sherlock nodded his head, John nearly laughed at how adult Sherlock it was but instead nodded back. "I'll let you get to your book while I make a spot of tea and some biscuits.

He hated the look of betrayal that longing and sadness that crossed Sherlock's face before it went into a mask almost like his adult one. He simply nodded and opened his book.

John went into the kitchen to make something up. Wondering about the face before he nearly slapped himself for being stupid again. Sherlock had been denied food to the point he had an eating disorder as an adult. Of course when he heard someone mention food he assumed someone was just going to eat it in front of him. Really wishing he'd taken a shot at the parents like Mary had, he focused on pouring the tea and pulling adult Sherlock's favorite Chocolate biscuits out and piling them on a plate. Hopefully he'd eat a few and they could start putting weight on him.

Walking back into the living room, he smiled as he saw the deep look of concentration on the boys face. His nose was scrunched adorably and he was mouthing the words along as he read them. He saw the fleeting look that Sherlock gave the biscuits and John before focusing back on his book, his shoulders suddenly hunched.

"Sherlock, time for tea and biscuits." He sat down, studiously ignoring the wide eyed curious look directed at him.

He poured the tea in each cup placing the amount of sugar the adult Sherlock took and placing it in front of the boy. Then taking a biscuit for himself he pushed the plate over in front of the boy as well. Looking up he noticed Sherlock still staring at him. A bit fearfully now.

"I know what your parents did and what they said. But they were wrong. You need to eat and here you are allowed too. Whenever you're hungry I want you to tell me." John supposed he was going a bit fast but then again he was sure that these things were going to be repeated more than once so might as well get started now. He noticed Sherlock still hesitating.

"Go on, my hands are full." He held up his biscuit and teacup."Nothing I can do."

Hesitantly Sherlock nodded, before quickly snaking a hand out and grabbing one of the sweets. Still studying John, he reverently put the book aside and holding it in both hands he began to nibble. After a couple of those he reached out and took a sip of tea, looking at John in amazement.

"How' you know I like i' like 'his?" He lisped.

"I deduced." John said waggling his eyebrows. Sherlock gave a tiny smile, showing a gap where his front left tooth should be.

The boys then finished their snack in peace. Sherlock quietly told John what he had been reading about after a bit of prompting on the man's part. Sitting on the floor talking chemistry is where Mary and found them when they came home, arms full from the shops.

"Hello dears!" Mrs. Hudson said breezing in. Sherlock jumped up at the sight of new people and moved until he was standing behind John, looking warily out from behind him. Heartened that Sherlock already saw him as safe...or at least the safest person in the room, he turned to the two woman smiling in greeting.

"Hello. Sherlock and I were just having a snack and getting acquainted." He turned and kneeled before Sherlock who looked at him warily.

"This is my wife and our landlady I was telling you about." Sherlock's eyebrows twitched as if to say idiot but he simply nodded his head.

"I know I know you deduced that. But there is no reason to be afraid. Now over there in the red jacket is my wife Mary." Sherlock waved a bit. "And that is our landlady." At the sight of Mrs. Hudson Sherlock got an odd look on his face. He stepped out from behind John and walked right up to her. She had placed the bags down and bent down to be face to face with the child.

"Hello dear."

John was heartened to see the tiny smile come back. "You can make biscui's!" He announced as fact.

"Why yes dear, would you like to make some with me sometime?"

Sherlock had a look of awe upon his face. "You'd le' me help?" Then it got serious. "BU' I would ruin i'. Mummy n daddy says so." He added sadly.

Mrs. Hudson, pulled the boy into a hug. "They were wrong. You don't ruin anything, you make it better. We will make biscuits and they'll be the best anyone has tasted."

Sherlock stood back tilting his head a bit, before dipping his head in ascent and then backing back towards John. From there he began to study Mary. He wasn't sure how he felt about her. She seemed nice, what he could deduce about her was nice. But there was something else, something dangerous. He wasn't sure what to make of it, he shot a pleading look at John.

It's alright, she had a dangerous job once. But now she's a nurse, a wife and with you here, a mother." He said poking the boy in the nose. Who just wrinkled it and looked at him almost offended. At that John couldn't help but laugh. Sherlock looked affronted at that. But in the end just shook his head and rolled his eyes at Mrs. Hudson who in turn had a giggle. Sherlock seemed pleased by this before turning his attention back to Mary, who had been busily unpacking things from the store while letting the boy talk with the other two. She slowed to a stop and looked down as he shuffled up to her.

"Hello Sherlock." She said quietly as he read her face. Seeming to like what he saw, he reached out a hand which she gently took in her own. She tried to hide the sadness at how thin and fragile they were.

"Why are you sad?" He asked curiously.

"Oh honey, I just wish we'd been able to help you before." He looked startled at her answer and blushed a bit.

"Why?"

Mary's voice caught and she looked to John for help.

"Because." He said. "No one deserves to be treated like you were."

"If you say so." The boy said dubiously.

THe three adults looked at each other. This would not be easy.

The rest of the evening was spent getting Sherlock in proper pj's. Getting him to eat dinner, which he tried to refuse saying that he wasn't hungry after the biscuits, when they could clearly hear his stomach growling. When John had called him on it, he had shrunk back hands in front of his face.

"Please don' hur' me. M sowwy I jus don' wan' my brain 'o slow down or I'll be even s'upider."

Gently John had taken his hands in his running a thumb comfortingly over the back of Sherlock's tiny hand.

"I will never hurt you. But you need to eat. You're brain will slow down. You need nutrients to keep it healthy. I will bring you a book and prove it too you tomorrow." Sherlock had looked at him startled then. Debating with himself he finally agreed and ate a few spoonfuls of the chicken soup Mary had bought for him, knowing his shrunken stomach wouldn't handle much else. Satisfied that Sherlock had eaten as much as he could in that moment.

Next came bed time. It was just as much of a nightmare as it was when Sherlock was an adult. Except this Sherlock was too afraid to leave the bed. He just lay tossing and turning. At their wits end, Mary had a sudden idea. Going in she sat on the bed with Sherlock who stared at her waiting.

"Come here love." She said, shuffling over slowly he knelt next to her. She pulled him up into her lap, studiously ignoring his flinch. She lay his head on her chest over her heart and gently began to rock him. When John came in ten minutes later to check on him, the two were fast asleep. Sherlock's hand fisted in Mary's shirt and the woman holding the boy tightly. John snapped a picture with his phone before going and laying on the couch. That way he could hear if one of them needed him.

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Several parter. I kind of want to do chapters based on things the Watson's can do with him as a child. You know zoo's, parks, etc. Anything you want to see just PM me or note it in your review. Thanks for reading hope you enjoyed the first installment.

R&amp;R


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

DO NOT OWN!

Short one here. I'm using this story as my way of writing a bit each day. Hope you enjoy.

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John woke the next morning with a crick in his neck. Rolling over he tried to sit up and stretch it out. Opening his eyes he had to keep himself from jumping. Across the room in older Sherlock's chair was the younger version. He sat crosslegged in the chair, fingertips to his chin in his thinking pose. His ice eyes were staring directly at John as if trying to solve a complicated puzzle. He was still wearing his blue pajama's from the night before, wrapped around him was a forest green fuzzy lap blanket that had given to him specially knowing that Sherlock often got cold easily as an adult although he wouldn't admit it. In his lap, John was happy to note was a stuffed bee that was also bought in the shopping trip yesterday. When he had first seen it he wasn't sure how Sherlock would react to it with his treatment as a young child. While he was hesitant at first about accepting it, clearly thinking it was a trick, he had finally taken it and stuffed it under his arm. Smiling a bit he focused back on his young friend.

Sherlock's eyes had gone wide and a bit fearful but the most prominent was curiosity. John realized he must have been staring back a bit longer than he realized. Smiling at the boy he finished his stretch before standing. He slowly walked towards the boy who he noticed was trying to push himself through the back of the chair.

"Hey its ok. I won't hurt you remember." He knelt before the boy, who settled but still stared widely at him.

"Did you sleep well." Sherlock unconsciously picked up the bee and put the tip of its wing in his mouth, chewing it lightly as he nodded.

"That's good. Is Mary still sleeping?" Another nod. "I see you have your friend with you, what did you decide to name him?"

"Hamish." Sherlock said quickly looking a little confused but determined.

John blinked a bit, he was starting suspect that there was still a bit of their Sherlock in there. He wasn't freaking out around John and mostly saw him as safe like he instinctively knew he was. He knew that Mary was dangerous in the past, and he'd automatically run up to Mrs. Hudson and even allowed her to hug him as the older Sherlock did. Now he seemed to remember John's middle name, although from his face he clearly did not remember where the name came from. John was touched that he'd decided to name it for him, even if it wasn't conscious.

"That's a lovely name. It's nice to meet you." He said directing it to the bee and shaking one of his antenna's. He caught sight of a small smile before Hamish's wing was tucked back in the corner of his mouth.

John was not trained as a pediatrician but he was fairly sure seven was a bit old for that kind of habit. He assumed that it was a comfort long denied to Sherlock, and he was reverting because of the new area. Perhaps even testing the waters. Instead of mentioning it, deciding it wasn't hurting anyone, he smiled and ruffled Sherlock's hair a bit.

"Hey! Would you like to help me make breakfast."

Slowly Sherlock nodded his head, eyes wary. John stood and reached out his hand, gratified when the others small hand reached out and gripped his own. The hands were tiny and bony but warm and oddly comfortable in his own as if it was meant to be. Leading him into the kitchen, John minding his bruises, lifted the boy and set him on his knees on one of the kitchen chairs that he had pulled up to the counter. It was near the stove but not close enough for Sherlock to burn himself.

"Alright I think pancakes, eggs and toast. What say you?" John said in a businesslike voice waiting for the boys opinion.

Sherlock's jaw dropped a bit before he blurted out a little loudly. "We can have cake for breakfas'?!" Then realizing he'd been loud he shrank back apologizing under his breath.

"Its ok Sherlock, its ok your not in trouble." He said placing his hand on the soft curls and stroking lightly waiting until he felt Sherlock relax a little. Then he bent down so they were face to face.

"Its ok to ask questions. And you don't have to whisper, you're a kid. Kids are meant to be loud and noisy sometimes."

Sherlock gave him a weird look but nodded. He decided he'd tackle that later. "Now pancakes are well kind of like a patty shaped bit of cake I guess you could say but their not really sweet unless you add something to them. You can add jam, maple syrup, chocolate sauce." He heard a gasp at the last one and held back a smirk. Whenever he'd made pancakes for the older version, the only sure fire way to get him to eat it was adding chocolate sauce.

"Pancakes with chocolate sauce it is. As long as you promise to eat some egg. You need the nutrients." He added falling back into doctor mode. Sherlock nodded excitedly.

Smiling, John stood walking to the cupboard, he carefully opened it out of habit. He and Mary had already gone through and gotten rid of Sherlock's many experiments so that it was a sanitary place for themselves and a child but after living with Sherlock so long he had learned to be cautious. Reaching in he grabbed the pancake mix they'd bought the day before. He set it next to the young boy who began to read the back curiously. Beginning to whistle he went to the fridge pulling out the milk, eggs, chocolate sauce and the maple syrup. Placing the chocolate and syrup on the table he brought the rest of the supplies over. Digging under the counter he pulled out a bowl, a frying pan and a whisk.

"Alright." He clapped his hands. "So lets start with the mix and we'll add what we need to to it."

Twenty minutes later Mary found her husband and Sherlock in the kitchen. The boy was still kneeling on the chair, one hand clamped on Hamish while the other was mixing the pancake batter. John was facing the stove flipping a finished one onto a plate. Sherlock was the first one to hear her come in. He stopped mixing and turned to look at her.

"Morning Miss Mary." He said his sweet little voice touching her sore heart like a balm.

"Morning love." She said holding back a giggle at his face. He had flour in his curls, on the tip of his nose and his left cheek. But in that moment, John turned to look at her and she lost it. "Oh you two." She said between gasps for air. John looked at her quizzically while Sherlock looked like he feared for her sanity.

She watched through her tears as the boy reached up and tugged her husbands jumper sleeve. "Um Mis'er John, why's she laughin'?"

Finally looking closely at Sherlock his own smile came to his face. He picked up the shiny metal spatula and looked at his own reflection. He had a smudge of flour under one eye, and some in his left ear.

"Well Sherlock I believe she's laughing because we made quite a mess."

Sherlock's eyes went in the by normal wide expression. He leaned closer to whisper although at that point Mary had calmed and she heard what he had to say. "Is she ok? I never me' anyone who laughed when I made a mess." He look nervous, eyes flickering between the two adults, bee wing tucking back into his mouth.

Mary shuffled forward, holding her housecoat close. Leaning forward she placed a kiss on a surprised Sherlock forehead. She watched sadly as he reached his hand up to touch the place, a reverent look on his face.

"There's nothing wrong with a little mess, Sherlock." Turning she placed a kiss on her husband as well.

"Try telling mummy and father that." He mumbled around the wing, looking down despondently.

John's heartstrings tugged at the sight of the downtrodden boy. Flipping off the stove, they had enough of everything made, he turned and lifted the boy in his arms, holding him close and rocking him a bit. Sherlock flinched when he picked him up and then lay stiffly. John just continued to cuddle him looking lost at Mary who smiled enouragingly, grabbed the pancakes and eggs and began to set the table to allow them to have a moment together. John felt relieved when finally, Sherlock relaxed a bit, putting his free arm slowly around John's neck and laying his head on his shoulder. John lay his head against Sherlock's, the curls tickling his chin. He hummed as he walked over to the table.

Sitting he held Sherlock a few more moments. Then he kissed the top of his head, before sitting the boy in his lap.

"Wha'-wha' was tha-?" He asked the man. "You n' miss mary both did it, n the other thing we were jus' doin?"

The look of lost confusing caused a lump in John's throat. He was certain if he ever crossed paths with the Holmes' again, there would be murder. A child didn't know what a kiss was? Or a hug? Or a cuddle? It was inhumane.

"Those were kisses. What we were doing was hugging and having a cuddle. People who care about each other do it. It makes someone sad feel good again, and its comforting. We can do any of those any time you want." He and Mary looked on helpless as they watched the seven year old process something that should already have been ingrained in his life.

"I think..I think they used da hug bu' they hur' me ins'ead of ac'ually hugging." His face was scrunched up adorably in thought.

John's voice broke as he responded. "What do you mean?" Sherlock would eventually need to talk about what he went through to heal. The ice blue eyes met his, teary. "They would ac' like I did somethin' good n then they would go da hug bu' ins'ead they grabbed me n threw me on the floor n hi' or kicked me. If I was really bad, they would pu' me in the bad boy close'." His face crumpled a bit. " I wish I was good. They never pu' My there. He was good bu' I"m bad." His face then got a desperate look to it and he scrambled out of John's lap. "You are nice. I shouldn' be here. I'll ruin everything."

John's heart broke at what the little voice was saying, but it shattered as one lone tear escaped the boys eye. Standing he scooped the boy who fought for a minute before finally hanging limply. Sniffling a bit.

"Sherlock we'll tell you this as often as we have too until you believe it. You're parents were wrong to treat you as they did. You are very good. You sat quietly while we were sleeping, you helped me with breakfast. You're polite and sweet and we love you." He hugged the boy tight, willing him to feel all the happy emotions he held for him.

"Why would they do i' then?"

"I don't know. They weren't nice people. And they didn't appreciate you." John whispered holding him closer.

"Thank you for letthing me s'ay with you."

"We love having you."John looked at Mary, who had her own tears. Sniffling a little himself he decided that it was time to move on for the moment. "So how about those pancakes and chocolate sauce?"

Sherlock sat up and looked him in the face, a tiny smile on his face once more.

"Yes please!"

John chuckled before placing him in his own seat. Pulling a plate over he put a pancake and a spoonful of eggs on it. Then he added plenty of sauce on top. Sliding the plate and fork over to the child he gently reminded him of their deal.

"Now remember eat your eggs, then the chocolate."

"Ok Mis'er John."

"And don't call me Mr. ts just John."

"And I'm just Mary." She chimed in.

Nodding Sherlock turned and dug in. John was pleased to note that he did start with his eggs. As they all ate, John began to think of what they could do to entertain Sherlock. They needed to consider what needs he had as far as school. They would have to teach him from home somehow. But not a new person because he had a hard enough time with strangers as it was. They wouldn't have trouble with work for a while. They both had a tragedy leave of absence. He seemed to trust Mrs. Hudson, so maybe they could find a way for her to tutor Sherlock during the day when they did go back to work. Then there was figuring out what happened to Sherlock in the first place. John had the sick feeling it had to do with the "Did you Miss Me" prank. They still hadn't figured out who had done it.

Their breakfast continued in a quiet manner, the adults lost in the same thoughts and Sherlock sopping up as much chocolate sauce as he could. At one point the Watsons had a small giggle as Sherlock looked up at them, he had chocolate smeared around his lips to go along with the flour. After a moment he just smiled shyly and dug back in.

It was all and all a successful first morning.

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Hope it was alright. I have a lot of ideas but most of them are for later when mini Sherlock is more comfortable with the Watsons. So I'm just bumbling my way through the beginning. Please anything you want to see let me know. As always R&amp;R!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

DO NOT OWN. More on Sherlock's past and how their handling having him a child.

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None of them were able to believe it when they realized that a week had passed since their tragedy and the deaging of their friend.

John for himself, was extremely attached to the young boy and nothing made him happier than Sherlock seeming to be a bit more comfortable with him each day. He still flinched if he was touched unexpectedly or if someone made quick moves near him. But he was a little more open to talking with them and he usually remembered to simply call them John and Mary.

Mary who'd always had a sort of maternal affection for Sherlock, felt that taking care of him as an actual child was helping to heal the hole the loss of her own child had left. She simply couldn't believe how his parents had treated him. He was sweet and polite, always questioning. He was also unnaturally quiet, he had a hard time eating, often woofing it down an arm curled protectively around it as if afraid they were tricking him and it would be taken away. Then there were the night terrors that plagued him.

In the beginning they had written off his unwillingness to sleep as just being stubborn and wanting to stay up and experiment. By the end of it John felt terrible and really wished his adult friend was back so that he could apologize for everything he'd scoffed at that Sherlock did, that he now realized was the product of his younger years. The first night they had finally gotten Sherlock to sleep, it had been well after midnight. The two of them had fallen exhausted in their own bed. They had been jerked awake about an hour later by a scream. John had reacted quickly grabbing his gun and heading for Sherlock. The scream was so full of fear and pain that John was sure if he wasn't in army mode then he would have felt the need to curl up and cry. It was so lonely and painful. All he could think of was that whoever had done this to Sherlock had finally come for him, so pushing his emotions aside he'd gone crashing into Sherlock's room, searching for the creep attacking the boy. Scanning carefully the only one he saw in the room was Sherlock. Shaking the last vestiges of sleep, he tucked the gun in his waistband. Sherlock was laying writhing on the bed, his scream was replaced with mumbling. John moved closer to figure out what was being said.

"M sorry mummy, don'. Please don'. Daddy I won' do i' again. Please!" The little voice was desperate and heartbreaking. John immediately picked the boy up in his arms and cradled him close rocking him and pacing around the room.

"Shh Sherlock, shh. Its ok, their not here, they won't hurt you anymore." He continued in a mantra.

He looked down at the boy in his arms, his face was shadowed but when he passed by the window streetlight streaked across the young boys face. Tear tracks ran down his cheeks, his eyes were red. John was pleased to see that his mumbling had slowed and he was breathing a little more evenly. Finally his words stopped and he lifted his head up, eyes avoiding John's.

"M sowwy I woke you up. Please I promise I won' again, don' lock me in the close'!" He pleaded desperately choking back more tears. John wrapped his arm tighter around Sherlock placing his free hand in the curls.

"Shh Sherlock, its not your fault. You aren't in trouble." John took him and sat on the bed, with the boy in his lap. "This is because of the trauma you've endured. Its your minds way of trying to work through it, and..." At this he lifted the boys chin so he would look him in the eyes. He nearly couldn't continue because of the almost trusting look reflected back at him. Sherlock was sincerely listening to him, he wanted him to make it better. The strength of the trust placed in him made John feel on top of the world. He vowed he would not break it as everyone else had. "You're mind is also telling you, that you need to talk to someone about it. Talking helps you work through what happened, to understand it, and so that other person can help you realize that it wasn't your fault."

Sherlock's eyes glazed a bit as they did when he was deep in thought. He studied John harder through the fog, eyes flickering now and then as if trying to deduce John once more. It was times like this where Sherlock realized that he had been hurt his whole life and his mind told him that he shouldn't be trusting anyone. But his heart was arguing back, that John and Mary..who he noticed was standing in the doorway, weren't hurting him. John held his gaze steadily as the boy thought through everything.

Finally deciding he took a deep breath. "I was experimen'ing with a glass of juice. I wondered wha' kind of bugs would wan' i'. I was on the porch, I'd been there all af'ernoon. I was leaning over looking a' the bugs n wri'ing their names down. My mu-mother screamed and yelled tho my father tha' the freak was a' i' again. When I heard her I jumped and the juice n bugs spilled." Tears started to pool in his eyes as he spoke."THey s'ained mu'Mother's new shoes. Father...he grabbed my hair and yelled tha' I needed tho s'op bein a freak. Tha' I was a disgrace and he'd theach me once and for all. He..." A small sob but Sherlock muddled through. "He hi' me and threw me down, kicking my ribs. I fel' thwo of them break. I heard a hiss of leather and I realized tha' he had pulled his bel' ou'. He kep' hidding and hidding. I begged him tho sthop. He jus' laughed a' me. He thold me tha' I deserved worse. He didn' sthop even when I stharthed bleeding. WHen he go' thired he threw his belth tho the side and grabbed my hair again. He thook me down tho the closeth in the basementh. He puth me there. My finally goth me outh. He said I'd been there for three days."

Story finished, Sherlock gave in to his overwhelming emotions and placed his arms around John's neck holding tight. John squeezed him as he felt tears soaking into his pj's. The boy was so quiet that they could barely hear what felt like heart wrenching sobs.

'Another thing beaten into him. Crying was a weakness." He thought bitterly.

At that point, unable to hold back any longer Mary walked across the room sitting next to her boys. She placed a comforting hand on the child's back and whispered sweetly too him. They sat there, a small broken family trying to heal as the sobs tapered off to hiccoughs, which tapered off to deep breathing. The adults sighed in relief the boy was finally sleeping.

Based on what they had learned, they had finally set a plan for their days as long as Sherlock was a child. They had gathered some books and paperwork, Mary had a teacher friend that owed her a favor, so that he could learn in the morning. Mrs. Hudson had been pleased and flattered to be asked to teach her young grandson, as she had taken to calling Sherlock. The boy had been shocked the first time she had said it, his face turning a bright pink, before he had smiled shyly at her. The two had been thick as thieves since.

The days started with Mary, John and Sherlock making breakfast and eating. Sherlock still didn't eat as much as he should, but John was pleased to note that he was eating a bit more everyday and he was less and less hesitant about doing so. They still had to remind him to slow down, but he was very receptive and when reminded he ate slower and while he clutched his bee tightly, a nervous tick, he did not hover over his plate.

After breakfast they cleaned, having Sherlock dry the dishes. He did with excitement and relish. He'd confided in John later that he enjoyed being able to help out, especially people that were so nice to him. The morning then went to where John and Mary would sit upstairs doing something, while Sherlock went down to Mrs. Hudson's flat for class. They did this so there was practice for when they would be going back to work. From breakfast to lunch Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson would read and fill out worksheets, later Mrs. Hudson would correct them to give back the next day.

After the first test, Sherlock had hesitantly come up the stairs and shuffled over to John. The army doctor had immediately set aside his computer and smiled down at the boy.

"Hello Sherlock, how was school?" Sherlock smiled and nodded, fiddling with the paper in his hand. "Do you have something to show me?" Again a nod."Alright your nervous why don't you want to show me?"

Sherlock fiddled around, trying to find his words. John sat patiently, it was another thing they were working on. Trying to get Sherlock unafraid of opening up to them. They found if they kept a smile on their face, no matter what horrors the boy told them about, that he would eventually open up.

"I uh..." Right on cue. "I goth my thesth back n gramma said I should show you. Buth I thold her I shouldn'th show off cuz I noth as smarth as I think I am and no one likes a show off." Another thing that he had been forced to repeat until he believed it.

John reached forward and pulled him into his lap, taking the paper gently. Looking down, he noticed it was an English test, that Sherlock had Aced.

"Well you are probably the smartest person I've ever met, and wanting to show me and be proud of your grade is very good. I want to know how your doing. Now I think this should go on the fridge so everyone can see, don't you?"

A shy grin. "Ok." He said simply before hopping up and wandering in the kitchen, it was nearly lunchtime anyway.

Their afternoons were much the same as the morning. Every other day they had lunch with Sherlock, the other days he had it with the landlady , again practice for when no one else was home. His afternoons were his to do what he wanted with as long as it was something fun. No experiments, as he had time during class to do those, just good ol kid fun. At first grandmum had chosen for him, one day baking with him, another taking him to a park. Now she backed off a little and let him choose, if he couldn't think of something or was having a nervous day she would gently suggest something. At four o'clock he would stomp back upstairs and attach himself to either John or Mary. Following them around, asking questions, and helping out where he could. After dinner, John had set that time aside for him and Sherlock to sit by themselves in the kitchen. This was the time that John listened to Sherlock speak about his past and try to help him work through it. He hadn't opened up completely but he had mentioned a couple of major times he'd been in trouble. Both times had brought the boy to tears.

John felt that the routine was good but he was afraid of how Sherlock would react when they actually weren't in the flat. When he'd talked to Mary about it one night, she had suggested that they start leaving the flat for an hour or so each day, and up it until they were back to work. Then they could see how he reacted, and if need be, ween him away from needing them around all the time.

The night before they had decided, John lay in bed. He felt sure this wasn't going to go well and it was going to be hard to be strong in the face of Sherlock's sadness. He was barely able to say no to the grown man, never-mind his adorable younger self. Grumbling he rolled over hoping for the best.

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Next chapter, Sherlock's reaction when the two of them leave the flat. Thanks for everyone that has followed, or favorited this story its heartening to know someone is reading. Please read and review if you have the time.

Thanks :)


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

DO NOT OWN! This is how it goes the first time Mary and John go out without Sherlock. Hope you enjoy.

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The next day was the big day. It would be the first time that Mary and John would leave the house completely. The day started with a screaming Sherlock, in the throes of another nightmare. It took twenty minutes of rocking the boy and holding him close for him to finally calm down. Finally coaxing the boy into putting some clothes on and meeting in the kitchen, John went down the hall and looked for his wife who was standing in kitchen making up Sherlock's favorite breakfast of pancakes. She turned and smiled at him before pecking him on the lips.

"Is he settled now?"

"Yea." He let out a breath. "I just wish I could stop him from having them. Especially now that I know that's the reason he never slept as an adult. If they were bad enough to disturb him then, I can only imagine what their like now..."

His words died off as he looked helplessly at his partner. She placed another gentle kiss on his cheek.

"We're doing the best we can. He still has them yes, but we can get him calm and back to sleep now, so there are improvements. You know this sort of thing takes time, patience and love. Which I know for a fact you have a lot of."

"What would I do without you?" He asked pulling her close, and nibbling a bit at her neck. She giggled and whacked him with her spatula. Pulling back but still trapping her in his arms he just drank in the sight of her. Her blue eyes sparkled more and more every day. They especially sparkled when Sherlock did something they deemed adorable. Her smile lit the room, her blond hair glowed in the early morning sun. It was times like these that he was so very grateful. He had his lovely wife, and his best friend with him. John also finally felt like he was actually helping Sherlock, rather than following along like a puppy dog. Gazing around the kitchen he was amazed at how at home he felt for the first time since Sherlock had leapt off the building. While the memory was still painful, it had since been filled with new happy memories of his dear friend.

"John! Mary! There's a fire!" The sweet melodic voice called nervously from the doorway.

The two jumped apart, John swearing as Mary turned and removed the burning pancake from the stove.

"JOHN WATSON! Mind your mouth!" Mary said.

John, properly chastised turned to look at their young charge. He stood gripping the doorway in one hand, Hamish clutched in the other and tucked in his mouth. His eyes twinkled merrily as he looked at John, curly black hair disheveled and hanging in his eyes. He was wearing his new favorite type of outfit, jeans and a t shirt. His shirt today had a picture of the TARDIS on it. Recently they discovered that a way for Sherlock to wind down and calm his mind before bed was to plop him in front of an episode of Doctor Who. More often than not he'd doze as the episode was ending and John would carry him up and tuck him and Hamish in bed. Since discovering it, Sherlock's favorite way to play pretend was to be a pirate doctor. They would often discover him quietly playing pretend though he would immediately stop and apologize for being childish if they caught him. When John started to join in and pretend to be the first mate/companion, they noticed he was a little more open about his imagination.

"John?" A little voice caused him to start, he looked down noticing that Sherlock had walked right up to him and was looking up concerned. "Are you ok?"

John swooped down and picked him up tickling his sides, the giggles music to his ears. It was only the second time he'd heard it, but he made it his mission to find ways to hear it without tickling.

"Jo-ahaha John!"He squirmed and kicked, a wide smile spread across his face, cheeks flushed and eyes scrunched tight.

"I'm fine, I was just thinking about how cute you are in your new shirt." He sat placing Sherlock in his lap, the boy smiled up at him. He reached down and gripped John's wrist squeezing it. He did it often to both John and Mary and they had finally decided that it was his way of hugging them being too nervous to ask for the real thing. They'd confirmed this when he did it one time and Mary had immediately hugged him. He'd hugged back tightly, his first grin plastered on his face. John quickly gave him a hug, he felt Sherlock slide his head under his chin, hand fisted in John's sweater. This was his way to ask for a cuddle. Again they were more than happy to oblige. But they hoped eventually he would instigate on his own without their help.

"Are you boys ready for pancakes?" Mary asked putting a plate of perfect ones on the table after having discreetly gotten rid of the burned ones.

"Yes please!" Sherlock said excitedly but still on the quiet side. He slid off John's lap and hopped onto his own seat, watching delightedly as Mary spread some chocolate on his pancakes, adding some sausage and sliding it over too him. As usual he began with his protein and waited on the chocolate for last. John and Mary shared a small smile, it was so heartening to see Sherlock excited about his food. He was gaining in appetite everyday and while he would not ask for food, he would now take anything offered too him. His favorites seemed to be pancakes with chocolate, grilled cheese and milk, and for dinner fish and chips. All meals, he'd confided to John in one of their therapy sessions, that he'd never had before meeting the Watson's.

The morning carried on as normal, they washed the dishes and sent an energetic Sherlock down for his lessons. The two of them sat together on the couch, she reading a magazine and John reading a physician's text. They had decided that they would leave after lunch for one hour and go for some dessert and coffee down the street. That way it wasn't too long and it wasn't too far away if Mrs. Hudson needed them to come home beforehand. They had decided that the four of them would have lunch together, and they would break it to the boy then. They knew he had major anxiety especially when it came to them leaving him, so they didn't want to add to it by giving him too much warning. At least for this first time.

Lunch came quicker than they had anticipated. They were in the kitchen preparing the grilled cheeses and milk when they heard excited footsteps followed by more sedate footsteps. Sherlock burst in all smiles, carrying a sheet of paper in his hand.

"John! John! Look ath my grade on my math thesth!" He bounced relatively patiently next to John as the man put away the milk before turning to him. Smiling he took the slip of paper and read down it. Sherlock was in ninth grade math at the moment, but they were finding that was even a bit easy for him. As usual the landlady had given him his A + as well as adding a few encouraging comments.

'Amazing job, my love!' She'd written this time in the corner.

John ruffled Sherlock's hair.

"I'm proud of you kiddo. Let's hang this right up on the fridge." It was already covered in his tests so grabbing a new magnet from a box they had bought, on top of the refrigerator and placed the new test in the center.

"Good job love!" Mary said, placing a kiss on the top of Sherlocks head as she walked towards the table with the sandwiches." Come have some lunch!"

"Grilled cheese, grea'!" He said hurrying over to the table. Ever showing the manners that had literally been beaten into him, he pulled Mrs. Hudson's chair out for her, before seating himself.

"Thank you dear." She said as he blushed.

The four of them tucked into their sandwiches. Sherlock pretending to give bites to Hamish as he nibbled on the quarters that John had cut his sandwich into. THe three adults looked at each other and decided that it was time.

"So Sherlock dear." Mary began. Sherlock looked up at her eyes wide, still nibbling on his sandwich.

"Yes Mary?"

"John and I will be going out for an hour after lunch. Eventually we will need to go back to work, and we need you to be used to us being away during the day." She said it gently but she didn't believe that they should keep anything secret from him, it would be insulting to his intelligence.

Sherlock blinked at her and then looked at John who nodded his head slowly. His heart slowly sank as he studied the boy. He'd stopped nibbling his sandwich and set it on his plate as Hamish's wing migrated to his mouth during the time that Mary had spoken. His eyes were wide but emotions were closed off, even as he chewed furiously. Slowly he nodded but said nothing else. He stared at grand mum, who taking his silent hint, stood.

"Come along Sherlock, you still haven't told me what you want to do this afternoon. We'll pick something and they'll be back before you know it."

Mary and John watched as the older woman coaxed a subdued Sherlock down the stairs. Their heartstrings pulled as they realized this was the first time since Sherlock first started accepting affection from them, that he hadn't coming hovering until they gave him a hug. Silently they cleaned up and got their coats, walking down the stairs. They both stopped and listened outside of Mrs. Hudson's door, but heard nothing. They shifted a bit deliberating if this was too soon. It was finally Mary who spoke.

"We need to do this John. He won't get used to it otherwise and we'll be in real trouble when we have to be gone for a whole work shift." John stared longingly at the apartment door but he did follow his wife outside and down the street.

Their dessert break had been tense and quiet, they both had continued to look at their phones waiting for a call. Unable to finish the cheesecake they ordered, they were sitting determined to finish out and get home on the hour mark exactly. Finally it was time for them too go. Paying the check quickly they practically ran down the sidewalk, breathing in relief when 221B Baker street came into view. They ran in and shut the door, moving over to Mrs. Hudson's door. They heard a muffled noise that sounded suspiciously like cries, and speaking.

"Dear they aren't angry with you. You haven't done anything wrong."

Sniffling and mumbling.

"Oh my dear, they have to go back to work eventually and they wanted to get you used to them being gone during the day. Their doing it bits at a time until you get used to it."

Mumble sniff.

"They are not angry because you had a nightmare, and they certainly love it when you show them your good grades."

The two couldn't stand it anymore, John walked in the door and immediately went to the boy huddled in the corner. He heard a little squeak as he lifted the thin child into his arms and held him as tight as he dared. He felt the shuddering sobs shiver through the young body, he rubbed the back and whispered to him lightly. In the back of his mind he was excited to note that Sherlock's backbone and ribs weren't as prominent as they had been.

"Sherlock, we're back. Just like we promised. We will never leave you. We love you. You are our son now and if we could we'd stay with you all day." He felt little arms tighten around him at that, and a questioning voice hiccup in his ear.

"You...you wanth me as a son." John pulled him back and looked into his red rimmed eyes.

"I want you to listen carefully Sherlock. Can you do that just for me?" Sherlock nodded his head slowly never breaking eye contact. John's hand continued to rub his back as he tried to gather his words. He felt Mary walk up beside him, her hand taking one of Sherlock's in her hand gently.

"You are our son now. You live with us because we love you and we wanted to take you in and give you a real home with real parents. Just because you aren't blood doesn't make you any less our son or Mrs. Hudson's grandson. You're stuck with us whether you like it or not."

Mary added in. "We would love it someday if you wanted to call us mum and dad or something but you never have too. If you feel more comfortable with John and Mary you will still be our son." She placed a kiss on his forehead, he smiled brightly at her. John followed by placing a kiss on the tip of his nose. The boy giggled, squeezing John tighter in a hug and also squeezing Mary's hand tighter.

In one of their discussions, Sherlock had expressed confusion in how they hugged and kissed him, and cuddled him. His parents apparently never ever had touched him unless it was to hurt him. They'd told him he was disgusting and made him feel soiled. Even Mycroft had not touched the boy other than maybe a tap on the head to remind him of his manners. Fiercely John had pulled him into a hug. After he'd told Mary about it the two of them had become even more affectionate with the boy. It made John smile at times, because when they got their Sherlock back and he had no doubt that it would happen, the man wouldn't quite know what to do anymore. After everything the two of them had learned about their friend, they were going to be treating Sherlock much like a child probably forever, to make up for the lack of care he'd received previously.

"How about we go upstairs and play a game?" John asked suddenly. He knew that eventually they'd have to come home from their outings and leave him with the landlady as he would do during a work day, but today he just couldn't do that to the still hiccoughing child.

Sherlock nodded his head quickly, tucking Hamish in his mouth. He laid his head down on John's shoulder and let Mary's hand slip from his as he got a tighter grip on the man's shoulder. Smiling, John cuddled him a bit before turning to.

"How about you join us Mrs. Hudson? Make it a family affair."

Looking happily flustered,she agreed. "Why I'd love to dear. Why don't I make some hot chocolate for everyone and bring it up?"

The three adults giggled as Sherlock's head popped up.

"Chocolathe?" He asked looking around wildly.

They spent the rest of the afternoon, with a happy giggling boy. John and Mary were happy to see that their confession to the boy had seemed to lift a weight from his shoulders, rather than adding one.

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Next installment I think Sherlock is going to say the Mum and Dad. We'll have to see. Hope you enjoyed. R&amp;R!


	5. Chapter 5

DO NOT OWN! I appreciate the reviews that I have received. To answer one question, Sherlock knows that his brother is busy. But don't worry I will have him questioning why he hasn't come to visit in the near future. Thanks for reading!

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After the initial day where they tested leaving the flat, everything went relatively smoothly. They were now built up to eight hour days. For the most part they would go down the street to a local bookstore. Then they'd sit together and read until lunchtime. When lunch was over they would wonder the streets talking mostly about what they needed to do to bring Sherlock back. John knew that Mycroft had taken a sample of what had changed Sherlock to begin with and was having it tested to see if they could make an antidote. Lestrade was trying to track down where the package came from and had his best forensic scientists on it. So far there had been no news on any front and John and Mary were beginning to wonder if this was something they would have to start considering as permanent. While they would miss their adult friend, neither one of them would ever consider getting rid of the boy they already considered to be their child. He brightened their lives as the adult had. He gave them reasons to get up, especially in the face of their tragedy. His smiles warmed their hearts and his giggles made them feel on top of the world.

One particular morning, about a week before they were due back at work, their normal daily plans had a change. Everything began normally enough, John and Mary were making breakfast. Today they'd decided on oatmeal and toast as it was such a rainy wet day. John called Sherlock a couple of times, which was unusual because generally the boy came bouncing down after the first call. Concerned, the two adults looked at each other, before they finally heard footsteps slowly make their way down the hall. They looked up to see a flushed Sherlock walk into the kitchen, Hamish clutched tightly in one hand, the other rubbing his eye.

"Morning love." John said going and standing before the boy. "How are you?"

"Sleepy." Sherlock mumbled before moving around John and heading for the table. He sat up in his chair slumping a little.

John looked up at Mary again. Every morning Sherlock waited for a hug or a cuddle. Had something happened? Why was he avoiding it today. He was also concerned by how flushed the child was. It didn't look to be the normal just waking up flush. Deciding that if Sherlock didn't mention anything during breakfast, then John would pull him aside afterwards and try and get something out of him.

Breakfast was a quiet affair. Generally Sherlock was quiet unless someone spoke to him, but in recent days he'd been becoming more and more chatty. This day however, he barely answered a question, and after only two or three bites of oatmeal he pushed his bowl away and refused anymore. Unable to hold back his concern anymore, John stood pushing aside his own breakfast.

"Sherlock will you come into the living room with me." The boy looked up at him miserably and for the first time in weeks, fearfully but he nodded his ascent and followed John into the living room and over too the couch.

John sat and had Sherlock stand in front of him. He studied the boy and noticed dark circles under his eyes which were even brighter than normal. They also seemed glazed and faraway.

"Sherlock I need you to tell me what's wrong."

Sherlock looked at him panicked. "Nothing I'm fine." He looked wildly, tears welling.

"Sherlock I know that isn't true. What have I told you? Hmmm?" He waited for a response finally Sherlock, head down answered.

"Tho come tho you with anything, you won' be mad." He repeated, a shuddery quality to his voice that John had come to realize was him holding back his upset feelings. John waited, but finally decided that no other words would be forthcoming.

"Sherlock please I want to help you, tell me what's wrong. Ignore whatever's in your head about what you think I'm going to do based on your biological's reaction, and do it based on what mine and Mary's reaction's have been."

Sherlock finally looked him in the eyes, John waited patiently. He was concerned when the flushed cheeks began to get a green tinge to them.

"I uh..." Sherlock began before turning and heaving. John sat forward pulling Sherlock's bangs back gently with one hand and rubbed his back with another as the poor boy lost his cookies on the floor. John felt the shuddering and shaking and knew that it wasn't just because the boy was getting sick and was uncomfortable. He felt sure the boy believed he was going to be punished for some reason. Finally the heaves slowed down, as there wasn't anything left to come up. Mary stood by with a cloth and the bin, she nodded as John caught her eye. When Sherlock stood up shaking, John reached out to pick him up, a bit surprised when Sherlock yanked himself away, falling over and backing up. His eyes were closed and he was breathy, whispering something. Suddenly John wasn't sure if Sherlock was even aware of where he was.

Kneeling on the floor, groaning a bit because his knees snapped, he tried to listen.

"Please don' hi' me, I didn' mean tho. I couldn' hold i'. I'm sorry I'm a nasthy lithle freak." Tears streamed down his face, as John reached forward once more. This time the child flinched but didn't slide backwards, his face one of defeat.

Lifting him and paying no mind to the mess on the front of his pajama's, John held him close and began to walk him down the hall.

"Its ok Sherlock. I know its no fun to be sick, but we'll take care of it. No harm done." He seethed inside, the boy had even been tortured when he was sick. How the boy had been raised by such monsters and not turned out like Moriarty said a lot more about his character than older Sherlock had ever believed of himself.

Going into the boys bedroom he grabbed a fresh pair of pajama's. Then into the bathroom he carefully stripped the shivering boy down. Taking a warm wet wash cloth, he carefully washed the muck from the boys face and chest, whispering sweet nothings too him as he worked. Satisfied that he was cleaned up, he helped him into his table of elements pajama's that Mary had found in some catalogue or other. Then he reached under the counter for his first aid kit, and pulled Sherlock into his lap. Placing his hand on the child's forehead, he winced at the heat coming off from him, he left his hand there a moment longer than necessary when Sherlock leaned into the touch. Running a hand through his curls, he took out a thermometer and took the boys temperature. 101 degrees F. Not great, but if they could get it down, a hospital wouldn't be required. He moved onto his ears, which seemed to be fine and his throat which was a bit red. He listened to his chest which seemed to be clear. So a stomach bug, not fun but not dangerous.

Giving him some child's medicine they had picked up just in case, he once again picked the boy up in his arms. Into the bedroom he went and as he was about to lay Sherlock down something different happened. Sherlock tightened his grip around John's neck.

"Please don' leave me here." He whimpered, shuddering a bit. John stood up stunned. It was the first time Sherlock had asked anything of them, he hadn't even asked them to stay when they left the flat, even though he clearly wanted too.

Decided that he couldn't ignore his plead, John simply grabbed the boys quilt and walked back out into the living room, Mary had cleaned the mess and was sitting in John's chair waiting. She looked up quirking a brow at them.

"Sherlock would like to be out here with us." Code for, we aren't leaving today, he needs us and he asked for us specifically. Nodding Mary got up and went into the kitchen. As John settled himself on the couch bundling Sherlock in the blanket and getting him comfortable in his lap, he heard movements in the kitchen. Curious he looked up as Mary came through with a freshly bagged bin. Placing it close to Sherlock, she sat down on the edge of the couch and ran her fingers through Sherlock's hair. The boy lay, his head on John's chest, feverish eyes half open as he studied Mary. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as she began to hum to him. Reaching out, he caught her free hand in his, hanging on, his other arm, Hamish tucked under it, was fisted in John's shirt. As Mary continued her ministrations and humming, his eyes slid closed and his breathing deepened.

Mrs. Hudson came up later to see what had happened to her charge and had to smile. John had budged over so that Mary could squeeze on the couch next to him. One arm was wrapped around her to keep her from sliding off the couch, the other wrapped around the sleeping boy who still had one hand clutching at John's shirt and the other hanging tightly onto Mary's hand. The landlady quietly crept down the stairs to grab her camera and went to snap a couple of pictures, thinking what good presents they would be. Then tugging the quilt that had slipped off, over the three of them, she went down to get dressed for the store. Seeing the bucket next to the couch and how feverish Sherlock had looked, she decided some ginger ale and crackers were in order.

When John woke, he was confused for a moment, looking around he realized that he and Mary were cuddled up to Sherlock who was laying quietly on his chest. Blinking down at the top of the curly hair, suddenly Sherlock shifted and looked up at John. His eyes were still feverish, but not so bad as they had been several hours before.

"How are you feeling?" The older man whispered.

"My thummy hurths buth I don' feel like throwing up anymore. My head hurths a loth thoo." HE added his mouth scrunched in a pout adorably.

"That's very good darling." John nearly started at her wife's voice. "I believe Mrs. Hudson has brought you some ginger ale and oyster crackers. If you can keep some of that down we can give you more medicine for your head. Alright my love?"

Sherlock nodded, although he looked less than thrilled at having to eat. John sat them both up, Sherlock still curled comfortably in his lap, while Mary slipped into the kitchen. She returned with three mugs, and a bowl of crackers.

Sherlock sipped slowly at his drink, while John and Mary had their tea. He even nibbled on a couple of crackers, before stating his stomach wanted no more. Deciding that was probably the best that they were going to get from him at the moment, they had him take some more medicine. As he lay despondently on John's chest, Mary got a brilliant idea. Standing she moved over to a shelf that she had begun to put their dvd's. Pulling one out, she slipped it into the player and sat cuddled close to her boys. As the beginning of "The Great Mouse Detective" began, Sherlock turned his eyes intrigued. As the movie progressed and they heard little giggles every now and then, they knew it had been a good choice.

The rest of the afternoon was spent watching movies and cuddling the boy close, as night finally fell John lifted him and took him into his bedroom followed by Mary. They gave him his last dose of medicine, tucked him in, and each read him a story. As they bent down to give him kisses, his eyes closed their hearts warmed at the slight smile on his face. Standing and linking arms they headed towards the door, shutting the light off as they went. Just before they left the room a little voice called after them.

"Goodnigh' mummy and daddy. Love you." The little figure then rolled over, lost back in his dreams.

Mary and John looked at each other tears in their eyes, laughing and sobbing at the same time. They could never replace the baby they lost, but their new baby had filled the hole in their hearts.

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Hope this was ok. The next one is probably going to be the Mycroft chapter. Not sure, but if you have a want let me know

:). R&amp;R.


	6. Chapter 6

67 Chapter 6

DO NOT OWN! Thank you for all the reviews and kind words. This chapter is about Sherlock missing Mycroft.

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The days following Sherlock's sickness were some of the happiest in John and Mary's lives. The boy was generally more open, although still not as open as a child should be. He would come and hold his arms up tentatively for hugs, but he still wouldn't say anything. He had taken to calling them Mummy and Daddy when he wasn't thinking about what he was saying or he was excited. He still seemed nervous about it any other time. The two adults took it in stride, knowing it was baby steps and as per usual Sherlock was already steps ahead of someone else his age and situation.

The day that started a small setback, came in the form of a windy rainy Saturday. On Saturdays the two didn't leave the flat, they had enough tenure where they worked that they had weekends off, so it was their days to hang out with Sherlock. This day however they sat together on the couch watching worriedly as Sherlock stared despondently out the window. They had noticed him doing this each Saturday but when asked, he'd simply shrugged and finally moved on to something else. His subdued mood always lasted the rest of the day, but disappeared on Sunday.

They hated seeing him so sad, especially when he'd made such progress at being the bright happy child he should have been the first time. Finally John walked over and sat cross legged on the floor next to where Sherlock stood staring out the living room window.

"Sherlock, you do this every Saturday. We want to help. What is it you are looking for?" He waited patiently as Sherlock stood chewing on Hamish before turning to him, eyes slightly red rimmed. Finally ever so slowly he reached his arms out.

John immediately complied, pulling the boy into his lap and cuddling him close.

"I thoughth you were friends with My?" He asked in a small voice.

John looked at Mary surprised before turning back to the slight child. "We are, that's how you came to us."

"When I lived with Them. He would come and visith me every Sathurday. How come he doesn'th come here? Does he noth like me anymore? Is ith because I was thoo weak thoo handle Mother and Father?" His tiny voice broke at the last sentence. John tugged him closer placing his head under his chin so his body was protecting the small boy. Why oh why hadn't he thought of the this.

The whole time that he had known Sherlock and Mycroft they had been at odds with each other. But he had known that they had to have been closer when they were younger. It was the way they spoke to each other when they were focused on something more than being mean. It was the way that Mycroft looked after Sherlock no matter the acid words that came out of his younger brothers mouth. He wondered now if it was Sherlock being stuck in the poisonous household while Mycroft left is what caused the rift between them in the first place. That would be a question for the older man if he could get a hold of him. Looking down at the shivering figure in his arms, he knew he would definitely getting a hold of the man no matter what. If he wasn't going to be a part of Sherlock's life at this time, then he was going to be the one to explain it too the boy. John knew that it would be heartbreaking and he wanted him and Mary to be the safety zones in the aftermath not the bad guys who told him his older brother wanted nothing to do with him. Somehow, John knew that's pretty much what Mycroft was going to do.

"Tell you what Sherlock. I'm going to try and get a hold of your brother. Even if I have to threaten the entire English government." He watched as the boy looked up at him wide eyed.

"You'd do thath for me Daddy?" He asked incredulously.

"Of course for you." John said, poking the child in the nose. A wide grin spread on the seven year olds face before he buried his head in John's shoulder, thanking him profusely. The man rubbed his back, noting that less of his backbone could be felt. He really hoped that this wouldn't cause too much of a setback. They were starting to build him up to the size he should be at this age. His eyes caught Mary's and he silently asked her to take Sherlock somewhere so that he could make the phone calls. Mary nodded before standing.

"Hey Sherlock love, why don't we go make some cookies? We'll have something to give to your brother when he arrives." She said gently looking down at the top of the curly head.

"Ok!" The boy said, giving John one last squeeze before hopping up with Hamish and grasping Mary's outstretched hand as she led him into the kitchen.

It was too the sound of quiet voices, and childish giggling that John began his arduous task of bringing the elder Holmes to his house. The phone calls began.

"Yes I need to speak with Mycroft Holmes." He waited. "I realize he's a busy man but-" The bloody git had hung up on him!

"I need to speak to Mycroft Holmes, its a matter of national security." He listened. "Well I'm not actually a part of a government-" Dammit! How could it be this hard?!

"Yes Mycroft Holmes please, I am one of her Majesty's guards. Password? I don't -" Bloody hell!

Pacing back and forth, the smells of chocolate chip cookies wafted into the room, Sherlock was talking animatedly with his wife, talking about all the things his brother used to do with him. John couldn't let him down, but he didn't know what to do. Pacing the room once more he caught sight of Sherlock's old desk. Suddenly it came to him. Running down the stairs into the landing, he pushed the coats off the rack before finding the one he was looking for. Sherlock's Belstaff lay there forlornly waiting for his owner to wear him once more. John shook his head, he was losing it if he was transposing feelings on a non living thing. Reaching into the pockets of the jacket he finally found what he was looking for. In his hand was Sherlock's cellphone. The screen was dark, hoping that it was just turned off he hit the button. Sagging in relief as the music began he waited impatiently for the machine to boot up.

Poking around cursing as he was rather technologically slow, he finally found Sherlock's contacts and scrolled through. There was no Mycroft. John knew that Sherlock had his number in there, he would never just type it in every time he had to text or call. Biting his lip he took what he knew about Sherlock and scrolled again. His name, Mary's, Lestrade...oh wait! Scrolling back up he came to the oddest name in the list and realized it had to be it.

Clicking the name, he waited as the phone dialed Captain Hook. He smiled a bit at Sherlock's sense of humor waiting for it to connect. After two rings, Mycroft's voice came on the line.

"I don't believe he's back to normal yet, so this must be John." His voice said smugly. This caused John's anger to rise a bit.

"You bloody well know its me and you bloody well know I've been trying to reach you."

"Language John. I've known no such thing I've been in meetings."

"Well bloody good for you. I have your little brother here, who waits at the window every Saturday for his older brother to come see him. Because apparently that's something you used to do. I know you don't forget things, so you've been purposely ignoring it and him." He ground out angrily.

"I think its best if we don't have a relationship this time around." John couldn't believe how heartless he was being.

"Yea? Well Sherlock doesn't' know that. All he knows is you dropped him with these strangers and don't bother to come see him! If you don't want a relationship with him, then your going to come tell him so. We've worked hard to help him become a little more open and a little bit more like a child and this is going to hurt him. I'm not going to be the one to tell him his brother doesn't care about him because I'm supposed to be the one protecting him. So take time out of your busy fucking life Mycroft and come face your younger brother!" He took an angry breath, waiting as the silence on the phone stretched. After a moment he checked the screen thinking that the man had hung up, but the minutes were still running.

"I'll be there in thirty minutes." The cold voice came before he did hang up. Sighing and closing his eyes, John took a couple deep breathes, trying to eradicate his anger so that Sherlock wouldn't see it when he went upstairs. Shutting the phone off and tucking it back in the coat pocket, he cleaned up his mess before going up to his family.

Sherlock greeted him at the door a chocolate chip cookie in hand. "Here you go!" He chirped excitedly handing it over. John ruffled his hair taking a bite of the gooey warm cookie. His eyes rolled back in his head a bit. They were absolutely delicious.

"You've outdone yourself kiddo. These are amazing." He said looking down at the child.

"Mary helped me." He said matter of fact. John smiled at how generous Sherlock was, when he wasn't forced to hide it away.

"Well why don't we go get her and we can sit and talk about your amazing cooking skills together while we wait for Mycroft."

Sherlock's eyes brightened and he smiled wide, his teeth showing. "You got a hold of him?" He asked bouncing in place.

"Sure did, I promised you didn't I."

Sherlock's eyes twinkled. "You did and any promise you make happens!" He grabbed John's hand leading him into the living room before stopping abruptly. "Oh and we were baking noth cooking!" John laughed loudly as he let the child drag him to the couch. He sat and smiled as the boy hopped up on his lap without thought. Mary joined them, placing a huge plate of cookies onto the coffee table. The three of them sat talking about the kitchen adventures. In the back of John's mind he was worried but he tried not to show it as he listened to Sherlock talking about the finer points of cracking an egg. All too soon the thirty minutes were up, and they heard steps on the stairs, and the click of an umbrella. Sherlock jumped up, immediately straightening, although a smile still tugged at his cheeks. John looked warily as Mycroft appeared in the doorway, looking around. Finally his gaze landed on Sherlock who was having a hard time holding still.

"MY!" The boy finally said rushing over to his big brother. "You look old." He informed him, cocking his head a bit at John and Mary who couldn't quite keep back a giggle.

"Yes well that's what happens when you work as long hours as I do." Mycroft responded. So far so good, John thought.

"Oh." Sherlock simply said. "My! We made cookies for you! Their your favorithe!" He grabbed Mycroft by the hand, who surprisingly allowed the child to drag him across the room. John and Mary looked at each other and decided this was their cue. They stood so that Mycroft could sit.

"We'll leave you two alone." Mary said kindly, however John gave Mycroft a sharp look before following his wife. They stepped out into the hallway but John motioned Mary to sit on the stairs with him. They needed to hear this.

"Oh Mycrofth their so nice! And they gave me this bee, his name is Hamish. I"m noth really sure why buth John says iths his middle name. Isn'th thath neath?"

"Indeed."

"How come you didn'th come see me!" The boy asked accusingly. "I waithed every Sathurday like you told me thoo."

A sigh.

"Whath's the mather My?" SHerlock asked, his voice suddenly fearful and concerned. John squeezed his eyes shut but didn't storm in like he wanted too. This had to happen if Mycroft wanted it to be this way.

"Sherlock I will not be coming to see you on Saturdays anymore."

"Oh well whath day then? I have schooling with Mrs. Hudson Monday through Fridays buth I don'th think she'd mind if you came."

"Sherlock you are deliberately misunderstanding me."

"Buth My-!" Sherlock's voice had a worried tint.

"No Sherlock, you knew that I meant I wasn't coming back at all. You are no longer my responsibility, I will not be a part of your life. You have the Watson's who have agreed to take care of your every need. I am not needed."

"My no please-"

"Sherlock Holmes you are acting like a baby! I found you this family to give you a second chance at life. That second chance does not involve me!" They heard him stand tapping his umbrella as he hurried towards the door. They saw him stand in the hallway a moment. He didn't' turn.

"Just have a good life Sherlock, enjoy it while you can." They watched him wide eyed as he looked at them. "Take care of him." He whispered before turning down the stairs and walking out on the young Sherlock.

There was silence for a moment but then a small sniffle. The two adults jumped up and hurried into the other room. Sherlock stood, Hamish loosely in his grasp at the window. His head was down and shoulders slumped. They weren't sure that he'd heard him come in but then he spoke.

"What did I do so wrong?" He sniffled a bit." WHy doesn'th any of them love me?"

Mary beat John to the child. She scooped him up and held him close.

"You're biological parents are monsters who don't deserve you. And Mycroft.." She looked at John a moment before steeling herself to finish the sentence. "Mycroft loves you very much, that's why he did this. He didn't want you to have any reminders of your time before. He wants you to grow up happy and safe."

John stepped forward then and put his arms around Mary so that she had comfort and so that Sherlock was kind of sandwiched in. Leaning down, he placed a kiss on Sherlock's neck.

"Don't forget Sherlock, we love you and we always will. You won't be getting rid of us."

At that, the water works opened up. Sherlock began to sob, loudly as a normal child his age would for once. His body shook hard and the tears quickly soaked into Mary's shirt. The two adults simply held him together and whispered sweet nothings as years of torture and unhappiness, abandonment and hurt came pouring out of the small body.

As the last hiccoughs finally wracked the child, his raw voice finally spoke to them.

"I love you thoo. Mummy and Daddy."

John and Mary smiled at each other over Sherlock's head, cuddling him closer. It was a horrible thing but they knew that Mycroft had done it for his brother. They each had a little more respect for the man.

Hope that was ok. Next chapter I think is going to be a little bit more on Sherlock's health. R&amp;R


	7. Chapter 7

DO NOT OWN! This is a little bit on Sherlock's health.

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John had taken to looking over Sherlock every week. For the wounds and bruises it was daily, but he had decided he needed to keep a chart of Sherlock's growth and weight, so he could be sure that they were doing all they could to get him healthy. Someone was with him all day to make sure he ate and drank so if he wasn't gaining properly then John would have to take him to a proper pediatrician. So far that hadn't been necessary.

As Sherlock sat, legs gently kicking back and forth as he ate about half of his breakfast cereal, John studied the boy. The bruises on his face and neck were finally almost gone at this point, still yellow spots but not nearly as prominent as they had been three weeks ago. The man finished up his breakfast, and the child helped him clean the dishes. The two adults had finally started work the week before and it had been a little trying for Mary who John had decided should sleep in that Saturday. So for the morning at least it was just Sherlock and himself. Deciding they might as well get his weekly checkup out of the way, he turned to the boy.

"Alright Sherlock lets pop into the living room, I need to check you over." Sherlock nodded and followed him into the living room. As the weeks went on Sherlock was a little more comfortable with the checkups. He still flinched lightly but, he looked up at John trustingly so the older man knew it was something the boy couldn't control.

Sitting himself on the couch, he helped Sherlock remove his shirt, making sure that Hamish remained tucked in the boys hand, he helped keep Sherlock's anxiety at bay so they made sure that he had the bee on him at all times. Turning the boy gently around he studied the deeper wounds on his back, pleased to note that they were healing nicely. He had taken the stitches out the week previous and wasn't sure how to feel when the boy had sat stoically through it. While he had given him a local, generally children got very upset when it came to stitches. But of course John knew he shouldn't be so surprised.

Moving on he ran a hand down Sherlock's spine, noticing it didn't seem quite as prominent as the week before, not by much. Turning he studied the boys chest, taking in the extent that his ribs showed. He still looked half-starved, John thought bitterly, but not the emaciated wreck of weeks before. Sherlock reached out a hand and patted John's.

"I'm ok Daddy. I have you n mummy." John smiled at the imploring look the boy was giving him. Tears stung his eyes at this child who had been through so much and was trying to comfort him.

"I know love, I just want to make it better sooner." Sherlock smiled at him shyly with a little bewilderment. He still didn't quite understand why anyone would want to make him better. But John knew after time they would help him understand.

"Alright time to get on the scale." He lifted the boy and placed him on it taking a reading. He was 24 pounds. Exactly half the weight he should be for someone his age. Sadly that was after he'd gained a couple pounds in the week. Shaking his head a bit, he made a mark in the booklet he was keeping. Then he lifted him and tickled him a bit to garnish a laugh before bringing him to the doorway. Having Sherlock stand up straight and tall he measured his height and marked it on the doorway. Sherlock got a kick out of seeing how much he was growing especially now that he actually was growing. John wondered how tall adult Sherlock would have been if his growth hadn't been stunted, considering he had already been tall to begin with.

His height was 34 inches, a foot under the average height for a child his age. He had grown a couple inches since John began measuring so he knew they were doing what they needed too.

"Alright Sherlock lets pop back over to the couch and I'll have a look at your teeth." Obediently the boy went over and perched on the couch opening wide for John, who first looked at the hole in his mouth. Seeing a bit of the adult tooth working its way out he gently pushed the other front tooth. It wiggled, John smiled at that.

"Well Sherlock, if you work on that loose tooth, I reckon the tooth fairy could come visit you."

"What's a tooth fairy?" Really John thought, was murder such a bad thing?

"Well she comes and collects children's teeth, and trades them for money or toys or chocolate depending on the child. Then the tooth gets remade into another tooth for another child."

Sherlock stared up at him in rapt fascination. "My Mother and Father threw mine away." He said. "Will children be outh of teeth of because of thath?" He asked suddenly concerned, eyes wide.

John kissed the top of his head. "No they won't, don't you worry." He sat back thinking of what they could do now.

Sherlock still had to take it easy because of the tender wounds which is why they had not gone to the park often. Anyway it was raining so they would have to do something in the flat.

"Sherlock, would you like to play Go Fish?" Sherlock tilted his head adorably but hesitantly nodded.

"It's alright I'll teach you, its very easy and I'm sure by the end of it you'll be kicking my butt." Sherlock giggled at that.

A couple hours later, Mary finally got up to the sounds of laughing and giggling. Getting dressed and making herself presentable she found her two boys in the kitchen. A pile of cards sat on it, looking as though they stopped in the middle of a game. In the living room, Sherlock stood on the coffee table a paper sword in hand, and a paper pirate hat on his head.

"AVASTH MATHEY! ITHS the MUMMY!" He yelled at John. "ALL HANDS ON DECK!" John who had been standing in the corner with his own sword, followed the captain to the middle of the living room and followed him as he bowed to Mary.

"Welcome tho The Mary, !" She smiled down at the adorable boy before her. She picked him up and kissed his cheek. He blushed bright red and smiled at her.

"Well thank you captain, first mate." She said nodding to a smiling John. "But how about you matey's take a break for lunch. I think grilled cheese is on the menu." She knew at the mention of his favorite lunch that Sherlock would be sold.

"Ok mummy!" He said squirming. She put him down and taking John's sword and hat from him, he put all four items on the bookshelf before grabbing Hamish off what had been the crow's nest.

He ran into the kitchen ahead of the adults. Mary looked at John questioningly knowing that this was his doctoring day.

"He's grown a bit and he's put on a pound. I believe we're doing all we can at the moment."

She smiled and nodded as they followed the excited boy into the kitchen. The rest of the lazy Saturday was spent playing cards, and eating snacks. There was a lot of giggling. It finally sounded as though a child lived there. Each time Mrs. Hudson heard that little giggle from her rooms, her heart warmed a little more. Sherlock was finally becoming happy.

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Alright I think the next one is going to be Sherlock stretching the boundaries and acting out a bit. Thanks for reading,

hope you enjoyed. Please R&amp;R!


	8. Chapter 8

67 Chapter 8

DO NOT OWN! Sherlock acts out, afraid that eventually they will leave him as his biological's did.

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The Watson's realized later that they should have realized this was coming. They were both in the medical profession and while they weren't psychologists they had had to have rudimentary skills in the subject. Plus the fact that John at least had been to one several times. But they were in a bliss that they thought couldn't be popped. They were both back to work, and while of course they had their sad moments about their child, it wasn't nearly as bad as it would have been without Sherlock. They would go home each day and with a little prompting hear about his days with grandmum. It was all and all a very comfortable existence.

It all changed one bright March morning. The two adults were moving around the kitchen in perfect harmony. She was cooking some eggs and bacon while John was setting the table and preparing the tea and juice. A door slamming caught their attention, they each turned and watched as Sherlock stormed into the kitchen, he didn't look up at them and said nothing as he hopped up an his chair. John thought he almost looked angry. The two adults looked at each other and decided to finish what they were doing and give him a chance to cool off. When they all settled down, Mary began to put some food on Sherlock's plate.

"I don' wan' any." He said.

"Sherlock you need to eat." Mary said placing it in front of him.

"I don'th wanth ith!" He said a little louder, he gaze still down. They looked at the boy once more concerned.

"Sherlock what is the matter? " John asked gently.

"M noth hungry."Sherlock said, his stomach growling imediately afterwards gave the statement less effect.

"We know that's not true, now please eat something and we'll figure this out after."

Sherlock suddenly reached out and swept his hand across the table sending his plate, food and all flying across the kitchen floor. He looked up his eyes angry, but something else flickering in there as well.

"I don'th wanth ith!" He screamed jumping up. "I DON"TH I DON"TH!"

The two adults had jumped at the outburst and stared shocked unsure where to go to next. Finally Mary came back to her senses and spoke first.

"Sherlock! What is going on with you?"

"Nothing." The boy mumbled sullenly. "Justh didn'th wanth ith."

John stood up at this and went to place his hand on the boys shoulder. The boy stood back violently pushing his hand away.

Sthop! Justh STOPTH!" He yelled backing away until he hit the counter.

"Okay, okay." John put his hands up in the surrender position. "Why don't you go down to Mrs. Hudson's . We can talk about this when we get home from work."

"I'm noth going down there! And I"m noth thalking abouth anything!" He stormed down the hall, and they heard the slam of his door once more. John stood and went to the hall closet to get a broom. He began to sweep up the mess, as Mary sat deep in thought.

"So what should we do?" She asked. "Should we stay home?"

"No." John said firmly. "We can't give in every time he acts out. We'll just let Mrs. Hudson know he's having a tough day and she can keep an eye on him."

Mary nodded before clearing the rest of the table, as John finished up the two of them went down the hall to Sherlock's door.

"Sherlock, we're leaving for work now. Since your not going to class you can just stay in there and think about what you've done this morning and why. We will speak when I get home." John said.

"Noth gonna." The voice said back sullenly.

Shaking his head, John simply turned and grabbed Mary's hand who was looking hesitantly at the boy's door. Pulling her down the stairs they made a quick detour to the landlady's door to explain what was going on and what Sherlock's task for the day was.

"Poor dear." Mrs Hudson said looking up the stairs worriedly." I'll keep an eye on things, I'll let you know if anything changes."

John and Mary gave their thanks before going out the door for work.

The day passed slowly, whenever Mary brought a patient to John they shared a long worried look about their lost little boy at home. In between patients John had opened his computer and tried to figure out what was going through his child's head. The biggest thing that jumped out was Sherlock was attempting to push his boundaries. He wanted to see if they would give up on him and treat him as his parents had. He was pushing buttons. John couldn't understand why this had happened so suddenly. Did it really work that way? He was no psychologist but having an idea in mind to work with, he filled Mary in as they made their way home.

Walking up the steps, they heard the tinkling of glass breaking. THe two of them sped up and went up the stairs to their apartment. Mrs. Hudson stood back in the living room tears in her eyes as she watched something in the kitchen.

"Mrs Hudson?" John asked concerned.

"Oh John I don't know what's wrong, and I can't get him to stop. He started this about fifteen minutes ago. I didn't think there was any point to call because you'd already be coming home." John looked in and saw as Sherlock savagely threw plates and cups against the floor watching in satisfaction as they smashed.

"Jesus!" John yelped before running into the kitchen. "Sherlock stop!" He looked down noticing Sherlock's bare feet were bleeding from where he had stepped in glass. His face was screwed up in agony and anger as he threw another plate. He looked over at John and got a fearful look before the anger overpowered again.

John, ignoring the boys flinch grabbed him and picked him up clear from the rubble, taking him into the living room and setting him down on the couch.

"First aid Mary please! And tweezers." He added as he saw little slivers of glass embedded in his charges feet.

"Whath are you doing?" Sherlock asked squirming.

"Stop fidgeting." John said, his voice stern.

Sherlock froze, not used to hearing John speak to him that way. Not a word was said as Mary brought back the kit and John worked on making sure all the glass was out of his feet and that the deep cuts were lathered in medicine and bandaged. His lips were pressed together and his hands shook slightly as he fought to control his anger. He knew that that wouldn't help Sherlock's situation. Anger is what the boy was trying to get. In the background he heard Mrs. Hudson and Mary talking quietly as they cleared the glass from the kitchen.

"You're angry." Sherlock stated. John decided to be frank with the boy. He wasn't stupid and John was sure on some level he'd known what he was doing.

"I am." He said simply continuing to work on the boys feet.

"Why don't you hith me then? Beath me with a belth? Scream abouth whath an ungrathful freak I am? Thath I am a bad boy who deserves tho be hurth? Thake me back for my parenths tho deal with? You're noth my parenths so you have no obligation!" As his words continued the anger began to drain out of John. He had known in theory why Sherlock was acting out, but to hear the boy still expected to be hurt and tossed aside when things got tough, was difficult.

Finishing up with his feet, John knelt down, gripping the boys face gently between his hands so the boy had no choice but to look at him.

"Sherlock, we love you. No matter what you do, we will love you. You are a good boy, a good boy who made a bad choice. That doesn't stop me or Mary loving you or wanting to care for you. You are a child, you are meant to make mistakes. As adults we are meant to guide you to better choices. That doesn't include hitting, beatings or name callings. You are not a freak and you do not deserve to be hit." He watched as the anger fell from Sherlock's face to be replaced with confusion and finally remorse.

"Now." He added knowing this couldn't go unpunished in some way. "You are going to sit in a corner for seven minutes and think about what I've said and what you've done. Then we'll talk and see what you could have done better next time."

Sherlock simply nodded. John lifted him so he didn't have to walk on his feet. Grabbing a desk chair he angled it into the corner and placed Sherlock down.

"Seven minutes." He reminded gently, placing a gentle hand on the boys head before going to check on the ladies.

They were seated in the kitchen, John checking on the time sat with them. They sat in silence sipping their tea, waiting for the time to be up. It was heartbreaking to have to punish the child for simply being scared of them leaving him. But they knew that they had to let him know violence wasn't the answer. Especially after growing up with parents as he did.

When the seven minutes were finally up, John jumped up and picked Sherlock up and away from the corner cuddling him close.

"There now all done." He said softly. He watched Sherlock's face scrunch up in agony. The boy pushed his face into John's shoulder and began to sob. John held him close as he cried his anger and fear out.

"I'm so sorry Daddy, n mummy n Nana! I"m sorry!" The two women came over and each placed a hand on the boys back.

"Shhh...its ok Sherlock. You've done your time in the corner, you are forgiven. Just remember next time, to talk with us if something is wrong."

They sat for several minutes as the boy calmed himself, finally he sat back eyes red and looked at John adoringly.

"Thank you." He said quietly including Mary and Mrs Hudson in the statement. "Thank you for not giving up on me."

He lay his head down again, and fell asleep on John's chest. While the doctor was sure this wouldn't be the first time that Sherlock would act out. He had high hopes that it would no longer be because he was scared of getting tossed aside.

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I'm thinking the next one will be bringing back Lestrade, Donovan and Anderson. Hope you enjoyed. R&amp;R


	9. Chapter 9

67 Chapter 9

DO NOT OWN! Sherlock has issues with officers, will that effect his reaction to Lestrade?

John was surprised, when a knock on the door came one Saturday and he opened it to reveal Lestrade, Donovan and Anderson. He wasn't even sure why Anderson was there considering he no longer worked for the police, but ever the gracious host he invited them in and offered a cup of tea.

"Sounds great mate." Lestrade said clapping his friend on the back as they went up the stairs into John's flat.

Mary and Sherlock were seated on the couch, Mary was stroking a hand through Sherlock's hair, while he performed some experiment or other on some sand he'd collected from a park the day before. He told them that he could figure out how long it had been since the sand had been changed. Nodding in silent agreement, the adults had kind of glazed over the rest of the details. Even as a child, Sherlock's use of scientific language was beyond their own, excluding doctor type languages of course.

"Look whose here." John announced, giving Sherlock a bit of warning new people were there before they came in. The child looked up expectantly, but as he spotted the three people that walked in, his face went white and eyes suspiciously wet.

"Sherlock this is Detective Inspector Lestrade, Sergeant Donovan, and uh well Anderson." He absolutely refused to call him Mr. Anderson , it reminded him too much of the Matrix and Anderson was not cool enough to be Neo.

Sherlock simply nodded slightly, his eyes watching their every movements. When Lestrade walked over and offered a hand to him, Sherlock scooted back abandoning his experiment on the coffee table. Lestrade shot a look to Mary, who gave a small shrug.

"Darling, are you alright?" She asked Sherlock quietly. In response the boy grabbed Hamish, who had been sitting next to him and pushed himself into the corner between the couch and the wall. Hamish's wing ended up once more in his mouth and Sherlock began to rock a little bit. John looked closer and realized he was also shaking a bit.

"Mary why don't you take them into the kitchen for some tea. I'll handle this, yea?" He said already kneeling down in front of the frightened boy. He waited while the others filed into the kitchen and collected his thoughts.

Sherlock was very nervous around new people, understandable considering everyone seemed to bully him. But when a couple people from the hospital had stopped by, he had simply stuck close to John and Mary and hadn't said much. He hadn't shoved himself into the corner. He couldn't use the excuse that he was more scared of guys than girls because they had had both genders of strangers stop by the house. What then? John thought hard and realized that maybe it was because they were officers. But why would that cause Sherlock to be fearful?

John's thoughts were interrupted by a whimper. Sitting more fully, he studied Sherlock. He was staring fearfully at John, his breathing erratic. Bloody hell he was having another panic attack! Reaching forward he pulled Sherlock against his chest, placing his own hand on the boys.

"It's alright love, breath with me. Shhh its ok, calm down." He whispered soothingly. As Sherlock's breathing became less pronounced, it was replaced with sobs, the boy turned in his lap and looked up at him, tears streaming down his thin cheeks.

"Please don'th leth them thake me back." He pleaded.

"What do you mean?" John was befuddled, why would he think that they were taking him back?

"I ran away tho My's once and they senth the police tho bring me home. They said I shouldn'th be bothering my brother he had more importhanth things tho do than deal with a litthle brath." He cried harder. "My justh leth them thake me, my father didn'th leth me outh of the closeth for days. The police knew, they saw him hith me, buth he paid them off and ...and they justh lefth me there."

John felt the blood rushing in his ears. Officers of the law, hired to protect and serve had watched a child being beaten by their own family and had left them there? For money?!

Sherlock continued. "If I solve their case, will they leth me sthay?"

"Wha- solve- case?" He finally settled on.

"Well yes, I saw the folder under Lesthrades arm. Ith's been on the news, the thwin sisther did ith." John wasn't sure where to begin. The fact that a seven year old, still could solve a case the police couldn't. That Sherlock had been watching the news and he'd apparently been oblivious, or the fact that Lestrade had brought the case here. Did he really think that John and Mary were going to allow the child to solve cases. He really hoped the Inspector was smarter than that otherwise there would be trouble. But at Sherlock's intense face John couldn't help but laugh a bit.

"First of all they helped us remove you from your parents care. They certainly won't be bringing you back. Secondly how did you know? Nevermind don't answer that. I want to see their faces when you tell them. If I carry you are you willing to go in there?" After a long moment Sherlock responded by holding his arms up. Shifting Sherlock, he stood and settled the boy on his hip. One small hand was fisted in his shirt, otherwise Sherlock seemed fairly calm. Satisfied that he wouldn't have another panic attack, he walked the boy into the kitchen. The four occupants looked up as they came in. Sherlock half hid is face in John's jacket, one eye peeking out.

"Hello Sherlock." Lestrade said gently. Sherlock waved a bit at him but said nothing in return. John started to laugh a bit more when he saw the folder sitting on the table.

"We aren't open for business Lestrade." He said, serious even in light of his laughter. "Sherlock is too young for that."

"Ah." Lestrade said glancing down at the folder. "Well I came to see if you would take a look at it actually." Well at least he wasn't as dumb as adult Sherlock had often claimed.

"Normally I'd say yes, but I don't need to this time. It's been solved." Even Mary laughed at the completely lost look on the detective's face. Donovan, however, shot a look at the child in his arms before smiling a bit.

"Let me guess, Sherlock already solved it?" She asked, looking at the boy even as she spoke to John. Sherlock stared back at her before finally giving her a very hesitant smile.

"Ith was the thwin sisther." He said quiethly. "SHe was lying on the intherview when she said she hadn'th been there. She also lied when she said she didn'th understhand why anyone would wanth tho kill her. She was jealous, I suspecth her sisther was more responsible with money and was handler of their inherithance when their parenths died."

A pin could have dropped and everyone would have heard it. Donovan was smiling silently that she had been correct, Mary and Lestrade were looking at Sherlock in shock and Anderson looked amazed.

"Even as a child." He mumbled. "Even as a bloody child."

"Language Anderson!" Sherlock piped up immediately before shaking his head a bit and looking confused at John. "Do I know him?" He whispered a bit.

John looked at Mary. They hadn't told Sherlock that he wasn't in his own time. They suspected he probably knew because they couldn't keep dates away from someone as intelligent as him. But he'd never asked and they had never told. They assumed that maybe part of whatever had changed him had affected his mind as far as dates were concerned and they didn't want to cause any problems.

"Anderson was there when you were removed from your parents care. You were pretty injured so perhaps you sort of recall him from that." He decided this was easiest, although from the look the child gave him, he was sure he wasn't wholly believed. However the boy didn't argue, instead turned his attention back to Lestrade.

"You should go arresth her before she leaves the counthry. She was ithching her arm on tv, she had shoths for thraveling." He said matter of factly.

"Bugger." Lestrade said jumping up motioning the other two. Striding by he stooped and placed a kiss on Sherlock's head in excitement.

"You are amazing, thank you Sherlock." The three of them strode out the door. "We'll be back to visit later!" He called as they went out onto the street.

There was silence as they waited and finally heard the sirens. The two adults looked at each other smirking. John squeezed Sherlock a bit in a hug.

"Whath are you smiling abouth Daddy?" He asked, pouting a bit thinking they were laughing at him.

"Just how cute you are." John simply responding, giggling at the boy's disbelieving snort.

As a reward for how clever Sherlock had been, and how brave he'd acted in the face of strangers, they decided to let him pick dinner. He had decided on pizza and ice cream. As they sat and watched tv that night, Sherlock suddenly requested they turn it too the news. Shrugging John obliged. They all sat back satisfied as they watched Lestrade host a press conference, with footage of the twin sister being taken away in cuffs.

It lightened the mood because they realized, in there somewhere their Sherlock was still with them.

I think I'm going to do Sherlock's first trip to a restaurant next. R&amp;R.


	10. Chapter 10

DO NOT OWN! How will Sherlock react in a restaurant?

It had been several weeks since Sherlock had been changed, and except one or two trips to the park where SHerlock invariably spent most of his time attached to the side of whichever adult was with him; he remained in the flat. His social anxiety was even worse than when he was an adult especially since he hadn't trained himself to have a sharp tongue to counteract his own nervousness.

As much as it pained John and Mary to force someone into a situation they were uncomfortable with, they knew that it was the only way to ease him a bit and teach him better habits to deal with his fear rather than a hurtful words to cut people down before they could cut him down. It was with that decision that they decided every week they would take him out to the public somewhere. Of course they would start somewhere simple where there were people around but not a lot of chance for contact with others. They had finally decided to take him to Angelo's. They were hoping, as with other things, his subconscious would remember the place and help him calm a bit. All the two adults needed to do was tell Sherlock what they were doing.

Unfortunately they hadn't yet approached him about their plans and with two hours before they were set to leave to make their reservations, they stood staring at the boy from the doorway of the kitche. He was seated on the floor in front of the coffee table. He had a pencil in his left hand, his tongue was poking out of the corner of his mouth. Hamish sat on the table beside him as he looked at him every once in a while. Sherlock had taken it upon himself to learn to use both hands in any task. He had already mastered writing with both hands, now he wanted to attempt drawing. Even as a seven year old his drawings were precise and accurate. John wondered what the adult Sherlock's skills were like if he was this good now. With his less dominant hand no less.

They both knew that Sherlock knew they were standing there staring at him. It finally seemed that he couldn't take it any more. He looked up at them, piercing eyes taking in the both of them. They widened a little and he bit his lip just a bit.

"There's something you wanth tho thell me buth you don'th know how I will reacth." He said matter of factly reaching blindly for his bee for comfort.

Well the look of barely disguised fear settled it. THey had to tell him now or be as bad as his parents and torture him with the wait, thinking he had done something wrong. The two of them went and sat on either side of the boy on the couch. John helped him up, and Sherlock crawled into Mary's lap, looking John in the eye correctly assuming he was the one giving the news.

"Its nothing terrible Sherlock. You're not in trouble, we're not leaving you, no ones hurt." He went down the normal list of fears that plagued his young son. Yes HIS son. "We have simply decided that you need to start going out more and face your fear of people." Sherlock's eyes widened if possible even more and he fisted a hand in Mary's shirt, knuckles white.

"No don't look like that, we'll be with you every step of the way. You just need to be able to go out in public and deal with your anxiety. Without making them feel like idiots." He added for good measure, although this Sherlock hadn't done that yet.

Hesitantly the boy nodded a bit, eyes more curious now than frightened knowing his surrgate parents would be there.

"We are going to take you to a restaurant the first few times, not a lot of people interaction but they will be around." He cupped SHerlock's face in his hands to be sure the boy was listening. "We are not doing this to hurt you or upset you. We want you to be able to go out unafraid that someone will hurt you. We will always protect you." Sherlock picked up his hand and placed it over one of John's squeezing it a bit.

"Okay Daddy." He said simply, before sliding off John's lap and running into his room.

The adults shared a confused look before following him down the hall. As they stepped into the room, they weren't sure whether to laugh or cry. Sherlock was standing a suit in hand, already trying to rip off his tshirt.

Mary walked in and sat on the edge of the bed. He helped Sherlock and placed his shirt back on.

"What are you doing love?" She asked, holding back a giggle at his mussed hair and confused stare.

"Getthing dressed for dinner?"

"You're fine in what you are in dear."

Sherlock looked if possible even more quizzical. "Buth I thoughth ith was demeaning tho the adulths if a child didn'th look their besth? I don'th wanth everyone tho look down on you because of me." HIs voice went up an octave clearly upset that he was going to hurt their reputation in some way.

Mary pulled him so he stood between her knees and looked down at him lovingly. "Dearest one, who told you that?"

Sherlock's eyes moved as he thought for a second before looking back at her. "Them." He said simply knowing she would understand.

"Correct. Now have we done everything or acted in any way like them before this."

"NO!" He yelped acting afraid that he would offend them.

"Correct again. You are in a nice pair of slacks and a clean neat t shirt. There is no need to dress up anymore. You're daddy is going just how he is now, I think you have him beat in the fancy department."

"OI!" John said as Sherlock turned to study him in his worn jeans and tan sweater. He saw a smile form on Sherlock's. "You watch it kiddo or I may find one of these for you to wear as well."

The boys face went slack. "You wouldn't!" He said in horror. John walked forward and knelt down next to the boy, he rubbed his nose lovingly against Sherlock's who scrunched his face adorably. "Oh I think you know I would."

Smiling finally Sherlock looped his arms around John's neck. John hugged him back.

"Now we leave in a couple hours. In the mean time why don't you finish Hamish's portrait, and we'll hang it on the fridge hmm?" Sherlock ran from the room excitedly at the mention of Hamish being displayed in such a prominent way.

The beginning of their journey was a little harrowing. It was dinner time for most people so the sidewalks were full. Sherlock nearly tripped over their feet as he clutched their pant legs. He was definitely beginning to fall into a panic attack as his eyes unconsciously deduced everyone that he saw. John suddenly wondered if he had his Mind Palace yet. Filing that away for later in the evening when they were home again, he caught Sherlock looking up at him pleadingly. This was probably the fifth time, and John wasn't quite sure what the boy was asking for. He knew that he would never ask to go home after the speech they had given him. He'd offered his hand to the boy but he had refused it because he was walking behind John's legs and it would have been an awkward position.

"Excuse me mate." A man said and John sidestepped, watching the man carrying his daughter through the...OH! Of course. Stopping suddenly, Sherlock ran into his knees before backing up. Mary stopped as well tilting her head at him in question.

"I know what he wants." He mouthed to her, she simply nodded and waited. Turning John scooped the boy up and tucked him securely onto his hip. He felt Sherlock relax immediately and lay his head on John's chest.

"Thank you daddy." He said quietly as if John had granted him the biggest favor in the world.

"Of course Sherlock. Next time just ask, I'm not as smart as you. I can't read people."

"Noth thrue." He said fiercly. "You and mommy are smarther in other ways. Ways thath are more importhanth than chemisthry." He added bitterly.

John nodded. "You are right, we may know more things than you in other areas but it isn't more important. Its important in a different way. You are a very intelligent, sweet boy and I wouldn't have you any other way."

"You either." Sherlock said, John could feel his smile against his neck as Sherlock tucked his head there, peaking over his shoulder at the crowds behind them. He shifted and twitched every once and a while and John was sure he hadn't done the Mind Palace yet. Definitely something to work on later.

They finally arrived at the restaurant and Angelo himself showed them to their seats.

"As usual anything you want free." He nodded at John and winked at the boy who actually giggled a bit and winked back. Leaving them with their menu's he wondered off so they could decide their drinks. He knew John was good for Sherlock, the man had been changed each time the two of them came in. That's why he extended the same courtesy to the doctor as he had the consulting detective. He was glad that Sherlock wasn't alone anymore.

"Well Sherlock, what would you like to drink." John asked turning the menu the boys hand to the drinks and pointing. Sherlock looked up at him slack jawed a moment.

"I- you mean I get to choose what I want?" He asked voice squeaking in disbelief.

"Of course you do, I suppose you weren't allowed to when you went out with Them." Mary asked fighting the anger out of her voice.

"I uh well thath is..." The boy trailed off, his face going bright red in embarrassment, Hamish, who he insisted come migrating towards his mouth at his anxiety.

"What is it Sherlock, you can tell us?" John said gently cupping his free hand in his own.

"I've never been tho a resthauranth ath all. They lefth me in the closeth whenever they wenth outh with Mycrofth or someone." He said quietly and into his menu.

The adults hearts shattered. They knew his parents were cruel but this was just beyond. They left a child home alone locked away in the dark while they went out and enjoyed themselves. And people called adult Sherlock cold and unfeeling. They were really surprised he wasn't after all he'd been through. He acted like a cold ass but he wasn't and he showed it to anyone who gave him half a chance.

"Well, yes you get to choose your drink and your meal, and even your dessert." He said gruffly, swiping his eyes to get rid of any offending tears. There was no point in getting Sherlock any more upset than he was.

Sherlock finally nodded, and while still chewing on Hamish, he read through the drinks.

"Can I get chocolate milk?" He asked quietly.

"Absolutely." John said firmly.

Finally decided they only waited a moment before Angelo came back over to their table.

"Alright what'll we have to drink, how about you young lady?" He asked Mary who blushed a bit before responding that she would like a glass of red wine. "And for you mate?" John responded that he'd just have tea. "How about for you the beekeeper?" He asked the boy smiling a bit. Sherlock beamed back at him.

"Chocolathe milk please."

"Ah definitely my favorite. I'll leave you to decide on your food while I get your drinks."

As he left Mary and John looked at each other amazed. They hadn't expected Sherlock to order for himself, especially on their first trip. John felt relief though, he thought that perhaps he was correct and Sherlock's subconscious remembered Angelo.

The rest of the evening went smoothly. Sherlock had perfect table manners as always, no thanks to the beatings he probably received if they weren't perfect, the two adults thought angrily. Sherlock had decided on lasagna and dug right in when it came. When he finished he carefully wiped his face and thanked Angelo for such an amazing meal. Then he chose a piece of chocolate cake for dessert and giggled when Angelo came out with it and a scoop of ice cream with it. The boy had been more silent than they were used too and his eyes often strayed to all the people around. But when he got too nervous he reached a hand out to JOhn who grasped the tiny fingers in his own and squeezed reassuringly.

As they walked home, this time Sherlock was dozing a bit on John's chest, the man's other hand gripping his wifes, John knew in that moment that they were finally a whole family and nothing was going to destroy that. He almost giggled at what Sherlock was going to do if he became an adult again. They wouldn't be giving him up. Even as an adult Sherlock needed care, needed to be reminded to do simple things. And as deeply as John and Mary's hearts had attached to him, he wouldn't be escaping their parenting, even in his thirties. Somehow, he thought, looking down at the boys peaceful face lit by the street lamps they walked under, he was sure that adult Sherlock wouldn't be as opposed as he would want them to believe.

Placing a kiss on the dark curls, he whispered. "I love you." To the child before gripping his wife's hands tighter and weaving their way through the streets home.

Hope you enjoyed! Let's see, probably mothers day for the next one. R&amp;R.


	11. Chapter 11

DO NOT OWN! John and Sherlock attempt to spoil their favorite ladies for Mother's Day. Instead War breaks loose.

John was having an interesting dream to say the least, well nightmare was probably a more accurate term. Sherlock was standing feet from them, calling for them to help him. He and Mary ran and ran but no how matter how far they ran Sherlock remained just out of reach. His eyes full of tears, one small hand stretched out to John in a plea.

"Why won'th you help me daddy...dadddy...DADDY!" An echo of his adult self was transposed over the little face and while he wasn't crying and begging, his face was hurt as if he had been betrayed and let down. He had to rescue him, both of them!

John started as he felt a finger poke him at the last daddy. Opening his eyes he glanced over and saw Mary curled up on the other side of the bed, then looking over to his side, he saw Sherlock peering down at him.

"Daddy, you said tho wake you up so we can make Mummy and gramum breakfasth." His voice was so silent that if it wasn't for the fact John knew exactly what he was talking about he wouldn't understand.

A couple days previously, John had approached Sherlock and confided in him that Sunday was Mother's Day. Sherlock's eyes had brightened and he'd began pelting questions at John. Could they include Mrs. Hudson ? Where would they get flowers? What breakfast should they make? Lunch? Dinner? Dessert? John had finally had to lift the boy and flip him upside down, eliciting a giggle before he could get a word in. He had explained that's why they were talking so the two of them could plan something. The most important was breakfast, because they could do that while the other two were in bed. The rest of the day the ladies would certainly want a hand in planning as it was their special day.

So that brought them to the early am, so early the sun hadn't peaked out yet. Mrs. Hudson was a very early riser and Sherlock had wanted to make sure they got her breakfast in bed before she got up. John had tried to convince him to go for later, but Sherlock wasn't having any of it. Of course John couldn't tell him that he had already let Mary and their landlady know what was going on so they would stay in bed. Being a whatever she was in the past, Mary woke very easily. But the two of them had agreed to stay were they were. Of course then John had to go back and warn them that breakfast would be very early. Mrs. Hudson had simply been delighted that Sherlock had thought of her, Mary simply smiled and went to bed a bit earlier than normal. Sherlock who had been working on a secret project, hadn't seemed to put it together with his plans for the next morning. Which John was more than thankful for.

Silently John slipped out of bed and grabbed his house robe tiptoeing after Sherlock out and down the stairs. As they stepped into the kitchen John smiled and ruffled Sherlock's hair. On the table sat the two bunches of flowers John had snuck in the night before, along with two homemade cards from Sherlock. On the counter were all the ingredients needed to make waffles, plus the brand new waffle iron that John had also bought. He knew that waffles were Mrs. Hudson's favorites and Mary often bought them when they went out for breakfast so he was sure it was a safe choice. The bread was out near the toaster, along with a couple different types of preserves, tea was near the teapot along with two mugs. THe mugs were another present, that Sherlock insisted John find and buy. One said "Best Mummy" and the other said "#1 Grandmum" Sherlock had been pleased when he'd brought them home, hugging his knees and bursting with excitement for when he could present them to the women.

"Alright!" John said clapping his hands together, deciding they needed to get started.

"SHHH! Daddy you'll wake them!" Sherlock said shooting John a petulant look.

"Oh er sorry love." He said feeling properly chastised. "Well why don't you begin on the toast and I'll start on the waffles." Sherlock nodded and hopped up on the chair he'd pulled over to the counter to place everything on top. Immediately his face was concentrated and his tongue poked out the corner of his mouth. A habit that both John and Mary found endearing and half wished the adult Sherlock still did. He gently placed Hamish next to him "to help him out" he stated noticing John's look. Simply smiling John went about his own project.

The kitchen was fairly quiet as the two of them worked. John was lost in thought, wondering what Mary would want to do, now that they had a child to celebrate mother's day with. He had several ideas to run by her, ones that he hoped she would enjoy but that wouldn't be too overwhelming for Sherlock.

"DADDY!" Sherlock's voice cut in his musing's startling him. He knocked into the batter bowl which tipped and pile of waffle mix dripped down the counter sides and onto the floor before he could right the bowl. Well at least there was still plenty to make waffles with he thought before turning to the boy.

Sherlock looked at him before turning back to the toaster. It was then that John could smell the faint scent of smoke.

"Oh bugger." He said hurrying over to Sherlock. He had forgotten the batter and slipped and slid instead. "Woaah!" He yelped before catching himself and shuffling towards Sherlock. Batter squished between his toes and he was sure he was making a funny face at the feel of it. When Sherlock giggled he knew he definitely was making a face.

Ignoring that he reached out and tipped the toaster upside down. Two slices of black toast slid out, along with a ton of crumbs that splashed everywhere, including the floor. John blinked down at Sherlock who blinked up at him a grin forming on his face.

"You're makin a mess Daddy." He informed him matter of factly.

"Yea yea." Fiddling with the toaster he added. "There you should be able to cook the toast now."

"Buth Daddy." Barely concealed mirth.

"What?"

"You're burning the waffles now."

John's eyes widened and barely keeping himself from slipping on his arse, he crunched his way through the toast crumbs back over to the waffle maker. Opening it a waft of smoke came up. He heard a snicker from the child who eyes twinkled at him when he looked over. WIthout giving much thought he stuck a finger in the waffle batter and flung it at Sherlock. It splattered against the boys cheek. He laughed at the shock on the child's face before an evil smirk appeared.

"Whatever your thinking don't do it Sherlock." He turned back to the waffle maker still smoking as he tried to pry off the waffle with a spatula. He felt a cold wet sticky splotch hit him on the side of the face. He blinked as it slid down his face, and into his pajama tops. PUtting a slow finger up he nabbed some of the left over and brought it to his mouth.

"You threw strawberry preserves at me." He said stonily, hearing Sherlock's giggle." Strawberry preserves! THis my boy means war." Turning John pulled the waffle maker plug, then he grabbed the tub of Waffle mix and flung some at Sherlock who ducked although some caught in his hair.

"No Sherlock I forbid you!" John said as Sherlock stuck his hand in the preserves jar and scooped a bunch, John backed up as Sherlock smirked at him again.

"No!" He couldn't quite contain his giggles. Sherlock launched and when John tried to dodge he got it square in the face. He realized Sherlock had deduced where he would move and thrown it there. Taking another hand ful of mix, the war began. The two giggle and slid around the kitchen, as jam and mix flew around the kitchen splattering against the window furniture and floor. Footprints and skidmarks appeared as they circled each other in the kitchen. At one point Sherlock jumped on another kitchen chair. If John had thought about it, he would have realized there was a reason for it. As it was he realized that Sherlock was out of ammo.

"Well well, look who wins." They were both covered in batter and jam, but who was really counting that. Scooping out the batter he let it rip. At the last moment Sherlock dove for the floor. John watched as in slow motion the mix flew and hit Mary and Mrs. Hudson who had been standing in the doorway.

"You sneak! You knew they were there, foul!" John crowed, his face burning bright red.

"Nu uh Daddy! I used my surroundings!" Sherlock piped up from the floor.

"You know John." Mary said, wiping the batter from her brow. seemed to be lost in giggles as she leaned against the door jamb." You are going to clean this mess." She took steps forward, winking at John as she went. "But first..." Reaching down she nabbed Sherlock, who struggled and squeaked. "I think your going to teach this traitor a lesson!"

"Buth mummy!" Sherlock giggled still squirming. "Look whath I goth you." He gestured over to the counter, where only slightly covered in muk was the two mugs. Mary's face softened and she cuddled the boy close. Thinking this was part of the plan John shifted forwards, getting ready to attack the boy. Just as he was about to pounce Mary side stepped and John slipped and fell into a pile of jam.

"I changed my mind. My darling boy is so sweet and you probably started it." She said sweetly. "You clean this up, while I help Sherlock bathe." As she turned Sherlock's face popped over the top of her shoulder. He grinned at John before sticking his tongue out at John and then they turned the corner to the bathroom.

"Traitor!" John said good-naturedly. He began to clean the floor, deciding over all it had been a fantastic morning. And they still had the rest of the day to make it special for Mrs. Hudson and Mary. Smirking he began to whistle as he worked.

Well hope you enjoyed. Not originally where I was going to go with this but "madworld27" got an idea into my head and I had to run with it. Next is Sherlock discovering what a tickle attack is. R&amp;R.


	12. Chapter 12

DO NOT OWN! How to explain a tickle war to someone whose never been tickled? I realize John has in the story before but Sherlock wouldn't know that unless its been done before right?

Sherlock lay across the couch, his eyes unfocused but directed towards the tv. Hamish was clutched tightly in one hand. He wasn't chipper or excited or anything as he normally was. John stood off to the side studying his boy with barely concealed concern. This reminded him an awful lot of adult Sherlock's black moods when he'd been bored. But this was the first time in the almost five months they'd had the boy, that he'd fallen into a such a state. Mary was in the kitchen bustling about making chocolate biscuits hoping to coax the boy into a better place. And John just studied him. Other than the unfocused eyes his face was pretty blank. Another sharp reminder of the man that he would become. It was then the boy sighed deeply before rolling on his side and looking up at John.

"Whaths the matther daddy?" He asked concern lacing his otherwise subdued tone. John wanted to laugh, maybe cry, and maybe go punch a certain government official just for the fun of it. Why was this seven year old who looked like someone had kicked his puppy, asking HIM the adult if anything was wrong. Sherlock was, if nothing else, good at turning everything on its ear. He never ever did what anyone would expect. Although, John supposed, that had always been a part of the man's charm.

"I'm just worried about you." He stated matter of factly. Sherlock, his neck appearing to hurt, rolled so his head was upside down of the edge of the couch, his feet up on the back of it. John smiled a bit as his curly hair dragged a bit on the ground.

"Why? I'm justh laying here?." He sounded honestly confused. John moved over and sat on the coffee table in front of the boy, he squeaked as he sat on a crayon, but just pushed it over as he settled himself. He looked down at Sherlock's upside down face and smiled again.

"You're not being your normal self. You're usually bubbly and happy, but now your quiet and well bleh." He said gesturing to the boy.

This elicitated a small giggle from the child warming John's heart.

"Daddy bleh isn'th a word." His face went back to stony although there was a small glimmer in his eye.

What could he do to get his child happy again? Sherlock was getting better about talking if something was bothering him, but he wasn't giving anything up just now. John wondered if it was just a random bad mood. Everyone had those, he supposed some of Sherlock's moods had to have been just plain bad moods. Scanning the apartment he tried to think of what he could do. Then a red blotch on a magazine caught his eye, hmm that could be just perfect. Mary had been looking through magazines with Sherlock getting ideas about what he might like for Christmas and Birthday's. If nothing else she was efficient and liked to have most items picked out months ahead. She had admitted she was going a bit early with Sherlock, especially since they didn't know if he'd still be a child at that time but she just wanted it to be a perfect time for him. The top of the last magazine she'd been going through with him,had a picture of tickle me Elmo on it. John grinned wider, looking much like the Cheshire Cat.

"Sherlock, where are you ticklish. Besides your sides." He added knowing he'd discovered that before. His grin fell a bit at the boys quizzical.

"Whath's thickling?"

"No ones ever tickled you before?" John said blankly.

Sherlock sighed one of his "you're an idiot but I love you anyway" sighs that John hadn't heard since he'd become a child. "I don'th know daddy, unthil you thell me whath thickling is." He added patiently.

John had to smile a bit at his matter of fact tone.

"Well tickling isn't something you can really explain, I'd have to show you." His grin spread more across his face. Studying his expression, Sherlock's eyes scrunched and he began to sit up backing a little down the couch.

"Now daddy don'th do anything your going tho regreth." He said already sounding a bit happier. He even had a sort of half smile on his face.

"Oh no I think we need to have a good old fashioned tickle war."

"Buth thath's no fair, I don'th know whath thath is."

"I have no doubt you'll catch on quick." At that John pounced. He started by running his fingers up Sherlock's side scrabbling his fingers gently across the less bony ribcage. Sherlock looked at him surprised before he squeaked and began giggling, writhering under John's fingers.

"Well your sides are ticklish but I knew that. How about your neck?"

"No No AHAHA!" Sherlock laughed as John got him just were his neck and shoulder met, he twisted his head trying to block the attacking fingers out. John just attacked the other side. The boy was rolling around now, face bright and happy as he continued to laugh, the first time he heard such loud full bodied laughs coming from the child.

"How about the back of your knees?" Twisting the shaking boy up onto his lap, he attacked the legs and set a whole new peal of laughter around the apartment. He winked at Mary who had appeared from the kitchen and was smiling lovingly at the two of them.

"How about your feet?"

"Daddy, aha DADDY!" He squealed as the man attacked his feet, his face red with laughter, eyes squinted and grin wide. Finally deciding to give the boy some air, he let up. THe boy continued to laugh for a moment, looking up bright eyed at the man before him.

JOhn sat back patting the small detectives leg as he calmed and got his breath back. The mood of the apartment was raised just by the giggling of that small child. John couldn't peel the grin off his own face. He watched smiling as Mary walked towards him to sit on his lap. She smiled and kissed him gently before pouncing and pinning his arms to the couch.

"Sherlock ATTACK!" She said, there was a moment when Sherlock looked up at her confused, his eyes clouded again but at the two concerned looks thrown at him he shook it off and pounced.

"Your thurn daddy."

He reached out and pressed his fingers into John's side and the man snorted out with laughter. Scrabbling at his sides, he got one hand into his neck and started there too.

"Get his armpit." Mary whispered.

"No ahaha no don't you ahahahaha!" John wriggled back and forth. "This is HAHAHA mutiny HAHAHA!"

Somehow the war migrated from the couch from there. After finishing his attack on John, Sherlock had looked mischievously over at his mummy and said "I think iths mummy's thurn." John had wholeheartedly agreed and they had chased the woman laughing around the apartment and up the stairs into their bedroom. She finally gave in as the pinned her to the bed her laughter echoing out into the hallway and down the stairs. Just as they decided Mary had had enough they heard a voice from downstairs call up to them.

"Are you alright dears?" Mrs Hudson asked.

Sherlock got an impish look in his eyes, before bolting for the stairs.

"Sherlock no, NO!" John called after him, before turning to Mary. "Oh dear, I think I"ve created a monster."

"Well at least he's a happy monster." She said, as they lay listening for Mrs. Hudson's laughter to waft their way.

Hope you enjoyed. Next up, Sherlock will have more black moods and John will finally figure out why. R&amp;R!


	13. Chapter 13

DO NOT OWN! Sorry for the day wait, started a new job yesterday and I was gone ALL day. Phew. Anyway we find out about Sherlock's dark moods, he goes on an adventure, and bonds a bit with Lestrade. Oh and gives Mary and John heartattacks but you know all part of his charm :).

It was getting ridiculous at this point. Sherlock didn't sleep, they would put him to bed and took to checking on him during the nights and he would always without fail be awake and staring blankly across the room. The dark circles around his eyes nearly looked like bruises if one looked close enough. Along with his lack of sleep, there was a drop in appetite, sometimes they had to fight to get him to take a few bites. It wasn't even that he'd argue with them, he'd just look at them with his sad eyes, almost pleading for them to do something to help him. But they couldn't get him to speak about what was bothering him.

Not only was he near silent and tended to pensive thinking rather than being active he was also attached to John at the hips. To the point he seemed on the verge of tears whenever John had to leave him for work. He refused to go near Mary anymore and flinched if she made sudden movements. The two adults were at their wits end. Not even Mrs. Hudson could cheer the boy up, he just went listlessly through his days.

Everything came to a head one Saturday a few weeks into this whole problem. Sherlock had dozed on the couch and the two adults relieved had seated themselves in the chair, content to relax in the room so as not to disturb him. Not long into the nap, Sherlock started to move violently he had his hands in a weird position but it almost seemed familiar to John...

"No." The child moaned fearfully. "Noth John, please noth him. I'll -I'll blow you up before you hurth him." John with sudden clarity realized what was going on. Sherlock was remembering his adult life. He was remembering the time at the pool. John hadn't know it had bothered the man this much, but clearly it had if the memory was breaking through to his child self.

"Stop Moriarthy, I'll jump, justh don'th hurth John."He rolled off the couch and let out a startled yelp as he woke. He blinked looking around wildly before finally spotting John. Whimpering a bit, the boy made a beeline for John's chair, climbing into the man's lap and wrapping his arms around his neck hugging tight. John could feel Hamish pressed into his neck. When the hot tears started to soak into his tshirt he decided enough was enough. Standing he picked up Sherlock and motioning for Mary to stay where she was, he took him up the stairs into the adults shared bedroom and sat the boy on the bed. Kneeling on the floor in front of him John took Sherlock's empty hand in his own, and placing his other hand on top of Sherlock's where he clutched his bee.

"Sherlock this can't go on anymore. I can't stand to see you upset and in pain." Sherlock looked away for a moment but turned back when John squeezed his hand to get his attention. "Please Sherlock you have to tell me what your nightmares are about. I can't help you, if I don't know."

"I- I can'th thell you or you're going tho think I'm a freak or crazy like everyone else." His tone was taking on a hysterical note.

"Sherlock what have I told you? I will never think that. But we can't go on like this. I will have to pull in an outside source if you don't talk to me and I really don't think you want that." He looked at the boy imploringly. Unable to move his hand with Hamish, Sherlock took to biting his lip as he stared into John's eyes. He seemed to be trying to gauge his soul almost. But finally, finally he sighed and nodded his head.

"Their weird. All the dreams I have, I'm an adulth. In one this...this man. His name was Sebastian. He-we wenth tho universithy thogether apparenthly and he he was drunk and he..." Sherlock let out a pained sob. "He forced himself on me. Ith hurth buth I couldn'th do anything because he injecthed me with something when I wasn'th looking. He said ith was cocaine? I've had thath one a few thimes. " John would be making a phone call later, and that bastard would be taken care of once and for all. He was sure once Mycroft heard the details he would be more than happy to oblige.

"Then there are others where I feel like I'm burning alive and I just wanth tho die if I can'th injecth myself with thath sthuff and the only thing keeping me going is Mrs. Hudson whoth thaking care of me through ith." The man started at this one, he knew that Sherlock had known their landlady quite a while but he never realized she'd been there to care for him during his withdrawal phase. She had taken care of him even before anyone realized that the problem wasn't wholly Sherlock's fault. He rubbed his hand over Sherlock's to soothe him and coax him into continuing.

"THen we were ath a swimming pool and there was this man here and when he threathened you...my adulth self was scared. I remember a million scenarios running through his-my head of how tho kill him withouth him hurthing you. But we couldn'th risk ith because of the snipers." Tears lingered on his eyelashes as he pushed through, seemingly prepared to just spill all his nightmares before they tried to talk through them. John, pleased that he was purging, didn't stop him. Later, however, he would wish that he'd stopped the boy and talked through each one. If only so the boy knew that he understood and sympathized.

"I had tho jump of a building because of thath same man thath Moriarthy." John shuddered at that evil mans name coming from such an innocent child's mouth." I didn'th wanth tho leave you buth I knew I had thoo and My said you wouldn'th leth me go unless you thoughth I was dead. Buth I had tho make sure you were safe from Moriarthy's minions."John held back a chuckle at Sherlock's childish way of talking about the man's web. "So I listhened and I jumped and when I was gone ith was like a parth of me was ripped outh and a gaping hole was lefth. I remember thinking you were my besth friend, my only friend and my brother had thalked me intho leaving you." Sherlock's tears slipped down his cheeks ath this.

"You were so angry when I came back." Sherlock sobbed harder. "My back hurth from the whippings and I justh wanthed tho see you buth you were so angry and I had no one buth myself tho blame." John began to speak up at this but the look in Sherlock's eyes stopped him. They had gone frozen, almost dead. The boy gently removed John's hands, before standing and beginning to pace the room. John stood near the bed, while Sherlock standing near the bureau and door finally turned. His face sad, red and blotchy.

"Then I remember...she shoth me and she didn'th care. I nearly leth myself die. I felth thath I was going tho leth myself go. YOu had a wife and a child on the way. You didn'th need me anymore buth then my mind palace reminded me you weren'th safe because Mu-Mary wasn'th safe because of Magnessun. I pulled myself from the basementh of my mind palace so I would wake up. My only thoughth was John Wathson is in Danger." He was sobbing and hiccouphing face red ath this pointh. "She shoth me and she didn'th care and you thook her back anyway." His face crumpled at this and John moved to take a step towards him shocked speechless.

"You thook her back and she had killed me, or nearly. THen-then I killed a man so you guys could be thogether!" His eyes had been hard, and reminded him much how Sherlock the adult had looked before they had gotten to know each other really well. Hard and pushy not daring to let anyone in. But another sob went by and John realized that the child in him was back in control. He looked up at John in horror.

"See? I'm a freak!" He yelled. "I see horrible things, people dying, people I kill, that others kill. I'm a monsther and a freak and I had bad dreams abouth the only people in the world thath have ever done anything nice for me!"

Twisting, John watched in slow motion as the boy ran from the room. He stood sealed to his spot as he tried to process everything he learned only jolting when he heard the front door slam shut.

'Oh no oh no!' He thought bolting down the stairs, he met Mary who rushed from the living room, her own tears streaming. John rushed by her taking the stairs two at a time.

"Call Lestrade." He ordered as he went out the front door. They still didn't know who had changed Sherlock, and they didn't know if Moriarty was really back or not. John cursed himself for not comforting the boy, or scooping him before he could leave. He stood in the street and looked in every direction, trying to figure out where a young distressed genius would go. Finally he just picked a direction and ran. Unfortunately it was the opposite direction that the boy had taken.

Sherlock ran and ran he skidded around a corner, knocked into someone but continued to run anyway. He ignored the angry yells that followed after him. He had ruined the one good thing in his life. Why did it have to be him? Why did he have to dream such horrible things. He ran as his heart hurt from the pain, and his head hurt from the tears. Hamish was clutched in one fist. He sobbed again thinking once he was returned to his parents they would burn the bee right in front of him. He wouldn't go back to them! He couldn't, not now that he knew what it was like to be loved and cared for. A fresh wave of hot tears came and he tried to rub them angrily away. For a genius he was stupid, just like Mycroft always used to say. He was slow and stupid like the rest of the goldfish.

The boys' breathing coming in gasps, he finally took a turn into an alleyway. Sliding down against the floor his sat to catch his breath. It was then that he noticed footsteps behind him. He listened intently but realized they were too small and light to be John or indeed any adult. So he simply waited. Finally a boy turned the corner. He was dressed in older clothes that were patched and torn but seemed to be fairly well taken care of all and all. His hair was a bit greasy and he was certainly a couple years older than Sherlock himself. But he looked friendly enough, looking down concerned at Sherlock himself.

"Hey mate, yer ok? Saw yer burstin' outta 221b like a fire was after yer or summat."

"I'm alrighth. I justh ...said something I shouldn'th have and now my adopthed mum and dad are going tho get rid of me."

The boy seemed to ponder this a moment. "Well the reason I was there was there's a man named Sherlock tha' lives there. He takes care of us street kids. Medicine, clothes, food, shel'er. He always said paren's weren' worth much so he never tried ter force us into a home. If in you like, you can come live with us. Jus' do you know where Sherlock's been? I came ter get medicine for my sister but he ain't been seen in months, I've heard. I didn't believe it a'course but I've been hanging out around there for a few days and haven't seen him."

Sherlock blinked the wheels in his head turning. He couldn't possibly actually be an adult could he? How would he be this age now? But it made sense with how old his real parents and brother looked. How different London was, and by the different technologies that the Watson's had. He began to feel himself grow sick at the thought. But he pushed it away and thought analytically. It didn't matter, the only ones that could confirm or deny would be the two people he'd just left.

"Well...my name is Sherlock, buth I haven'th seen anyone else named thath." He said apologetically. "Buth maybe I can help you." He moved towards the entrance and beckoned the boy to follow him.

"I'm Ron mate. " The boy said jogging to catch up with him. Sherlock thought about his adoptive parents a moment, Mary and John had given him an allowance every week without fail, and he never really needed anything so it was sitting in his pocket. He was sure he had enough to get medicine and maybe a bit of food for the girl.

The older boy followed him silently as he weaved his way through the streets that he was sure he'd never been through before, but seemed to automatically know his way. Finally he found the store he was looking for and tugged the boys sleeve when he didn't move to follow him in.

"I look like a beggar kid, they ain't gonner let me in there." SHerlock studied the boy before nodding.

"Whath medicine does she need?" He asked.

"Well she's got a cough and er a fever."

Nodding Sherlock headed into the store, a hundred different medicine ideas already rolling through his head. He finally settled on some grape flavored syrup that was supposed to be good for anyone with flu symptoms. Figuring that would cover any other problems she may have, he moved to the food aisle. He grabbed a package of crackers, a bottle of ginger ale and a bottle of water. As an after thought he bought a bag of chips and another bottle of water. Taking everything up to the counter, the cashier gave him a grimace before he pulled out his money. Then all smiles, the man typed everything in, asked for the money. Sherlock left without bothering waiting for the change. Hopefully that would gain him favours with the man if he ever needed it.

Meeting the boy out front, he tossed one of the bottles of water to him.

"For us to share." He explained at the boys surprised look. As the two boys walked down the street, towards the center of town, they didn't notice someone watching them, nor following them as they went.

To a young Sherlock, who had been ill and not out an active very much it seemed like they had been walking for days when the boy finally stopped in front of a run down house. Looking at it nervously, he kept just behind the older boy as they walked to the door. He tried to ignore the other small faces that poked out from windows. The two of them walked in, it was dusty and dark. But Sherlock noticed it was relatively cool considering the summer weather they were having. There were piles of clothes and blankets everywhere. It looked like they each picked a spot to call there own and that's where there stuff was kept. The older boy moved to the left, nodding and saying quiet hello's to the children they passed. They just ignored him and stared at Sherlock unsure what to make of him. Ignoring them, the smaller boy followed Ron up the steep stairs and down the hall.

"This is the quarantine room, mate." He said in warning. Impatiently Sherlock waved him forward. Nodding, respect and appreciation clear in his eyes, he led Sherlock into the room. THe first thing Sherlock noticed is that it was really stuffy and the sickly scent of sickness was present. On a pile of blankets lay a girl, face red and sweating. She was definitely older than Ron but her eyes were closed and her face pained.

"You sure she doesn'th need a hospithal?"

Ron nodded firmly. "She wouldn't go an anyway I had this a few months ago, medicine did the trick."

Shrugging figuring he would know better, Sherlock handed him the medicine.

"I goth her crackers and ginger ale. You should thry and geth her tho have some afther." He said matther of factly.

They were interrupted when another child came running up the stairs panting.

"The fuzz! Their downstairs snooping around." He glared at Sherlock. "I think they followed him."

Ron stepped forward protectively. "He's helpin my sister mate so show a little respect."

Looking from the food and medicine, the boy's glare did lessen. "He needs ter get out Ron. He's the only new one here. They'll be lookin fer him."

Sherlock knowing who it was, nodded in resignation. "He's righth. Justh thake this and I'll go geth rid of him. Good luck tho your sisther." He said, starting to walk away. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I can't thank yer enough mate. YOu ever need anything yer get word back ter me. And when my sister is better, I'll sneak her around ter meet ya." Sherlock smiled widely, nodding before turning and running down the steps of the house. He burst through the front door and ran head first into someone's legs.

"Ow." He muttered blinking up. Just as he thought, Lestrade was smiling down at him, although his brow was wrinkled worriedly.

"There you are Sherlock. I thought it was you. What are you doing?"

"Playing." Sherlock said hesitantly, protecting the kids secrets.

"If your done, will you come with me. If your hungry we can get a bite to eat and have a chat." Noticing Sherlock's face go pale he added. "You're not in trouble, I just want to make sure your ok."

Deciding he didn't have much of a choice SHerlock simply followed the man down to his car and hopped into the back. He kept silent as Lestrade tried to make small talk. Finally deciding to give it up for the moment they rode in silent until the officer finally pulled up to a small diner. Escorting the boy inside they were seated by a older lady who cooed over Sherlock before immediately bringing him a free chocolate milk. Sherlock managed a shy smile at her and a quiet thank you, before she bustled away and Lestrade's attention was on him again.

"Are they going tho geth rid of me?" Sherlock finally blurted out. Lestrade started.

"Their worried sick Sherlock. Trust me, the only thing happening to you is a suffocation of hugs."

"But I said things..."

"Look kiddo they told me what you said, and I'm sure that brain of yours has figured out it isn't your fault. And if it hasn't we will convince you." Seeing Sherlock's doubtful look, he waved away the waitress and pulled out his cell phone. He tapped a few buttons before handing it to the boy.

"Look at what he wrote."SHerlock looked down at the text messages.

-Greg I messed up. He's gone, I can't find him!-

-What happened?-

-He was talking about dreams, well memories, whatever and he thought I was mad and bolted. I wanted him to keep talking so I didn't say anything. But I should have. Oh god what if someone grabs him?-

-Listen John I am out on patrol now, I'll send a couple other cars looking. We'll find him.-

-But will it be in time? I love that boy and I feel like I've failed him!-

-John stop it, we will work this out. He's scared of losing you both and confused. We will work it out.-

Sherlock looked up tears in his eyes. "They miss me?" He asked brokenly.

"Very much, and you've only been gone a couple hours." His eyes twinkled and he winked at Sherlock. "Imagine if you went on a trip for real."

Sherlock wanted to giggle but couldn't. They still wanted him, they still loved him. He'd said those horrible things, which he hadn't completely decided whether it was real or not, but they still wanted him. Eyes shining, he looked up at Lestrade. "I wanth tho go home Lesthrade." He said quietly. The man nodded, he stood getting the chocolate milk to go and ushered the teary boy to the car.

John had run up adn down the streets after contacting Lestrade. Nothing, no trace. All the things he'd learned from Sherlock up in smoke as if he'd never witnessed it. He wished the man was here to belittle him about how he saw but didn't observe. He sobbed as he sat back in his chair. He'd finally given up, deciding that it was better to be here in case Lestrade had news or Sherlock showed up on his own.

When his phone dinged, he nearly threw it in his excitement to check it. A deep sigh engulfed him and he relaxed back in the chair at the words.

-Found him. He want's to come home. Be there soon.-

John looked up shakily at Mary who had been fairly distant since Sherlock's outburst that morning.

"He's coming home." His voice quavered with emotion. Mary nodded, tension lines relaxing a bit, as she moved to sit on the couch.

That's the positions the two of them stayed in as they waited. THe minutes seem to tick on forever, but finally they heard the door downstairs close and two sets of feet on the stairs. John felt the last tension leave his body as Sherlock's curly hair peaked over the railing, getting to the top Sherlock stopped and looked at John studying him. John unable to speak, simply smiled a watery smile at the boy, sitting forward in his chair he opened his arms.

Sherlock, sobbing ran forward and jumped into the man's lap.

"M so sorry Daddy. Please don'th send me away. " He cried.

"Never SHerlock, never. Not for anyone." He pulled Sherlock back so he could look him in the eyes. "I would never get rid of you, for anybody or anything do you understand?"

Finally, he was sure that Sherlock did understand. Once more the waterworks started. The room stayed silent for a while as the man consoled the boy.

When he was calmed down to sniffles he sat up and looked around the room. Catching sight of Mary, he looked at her long and hard. Dozens of expressions crossed the child's face, none that John was able to pick up until the last. Love.

Sherlock jumped off John and ran to Mary. Hesitantly she scooped him up, he hugged her tight.

"I love you mummy." He said.

Hope this makes up a bit for my absence. I know it was quick but Ron will be back later. Haven't decided on the next chapter for tomorrow, so I guess we'll all be surprised :D. R&amp;R!


	14. Chapter 14

DO NOT OWN! Mary and Sherlock are a team again, and work to surprise John.

John woke to a poke on his face. Yawning he opened his eyes and looked up at the boy staring down at him, a lopsided grin on his face.

"Morning Sherlock." He said sitting up and stretching. "What can I do for you?"

"You promised tho go shopping for me." Sherlock said urgently tugging on his sleeve.

"Right, remind me again why you can't go?" John stumbled out of bed and wandered to his closet to gather his clothes for the day.

"Daddy!" Sherlock said matter of factly. "You wanthed me and Mummy tho have a day thogether, this is the day. So you go buy the sthuff and have lunch and we'll hang outh." He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, Hamish swinging gently from his fingers as he moved.

"Alright alright." John yawned again, stumbling from his room to the bathroom. He heard Sherlock's feet pad down the stairs after him. Giving a tired wave in Mary's direction, he locked himself in the bathroom and started the shower.

Fifteen minutes later, he was clean, wide awake and sitting enjoying an omelette breakfast and a strong cup of tea. Sherlock was sitting talking to himself, as he bolted down his cheese omelette. John had never realized until recently what a cheese hound the boy was. They had found out by accident when asking him what snack he would like. He'd requested cheddar cheese and apples. Confused the two parent's complied. Later they had found Sherlock curled up on the couch engrossed in Doctor Who, nearly the whole block of cheese and an apple and a half were consumed. Blinking, they had decided to stock their kitchen with the snack in an attempt to help the boy gain weight.

Standing, John placed his dishes in the sink, and kissed Mary soundly as she stood washing them. Turning he went and knelt next to Sherlock, placing a sound kiss on his forehead before hugging him, and taking the list the child presented to him.

"Mento's and Coke?" He said standing as he looked down at the list. "I'm not so sure I want to bring that home." He said looking slyly down at the boy who looked up at him and pouted.

"Buth daddy! Ith's for an experimenth!" John gently pushed on his protruding lip.

"If you aren't careful that's going to drag on the ground." Ruffling Sherlock's silky locks he continued. "Don't worry I'll get everything on the list, have a long lunch and return later this afternoon as ordered." Standing straight he turned towards the boy who had moved to stand next to Mary, and performed a salute before about facing and marching down the stairs. Grabbing his coat, he yelled goodbye to Mrs. Hudson, before stepping out into the sunlight.

Sherlock waited until he heard the door shut and footsteps down the sidewalk. Finally he turned to Mary. "Ok mummy he's gone!" He singsonged.

"Perfect love." She replied ruffling his hair. It had been a couple weeks and Sherlock and Mary had already began to patch things up and become close again.

The two of them had come together for today as they had a surprise party planned for John later that day. Using the excuse that they needed to bond on their own they had gotten him out of the house non the wiser. At least Mary hoped, Sherlock kept assuring her that John had no idea what they had planned. In fact, he had told her, Daddy didn't even remember it was his birthday the next day.

"Alright love, I'll start on the snacks." Mary said, running a hand through his hair lovingly.

"OK! Grandmum and I already made the cake while you were ath work yestherday so we justh need tho do decorations!" He ran to the stairwell and called down. "Grandmum! Iths thime!"

"Alright dearie, just give me a minute."

Satisfied the older woman was coming, he rocketed down to his room. Mary heard him digging around and smiled as she began to stir a mixture that was to be egg rolls later. A few minutes later, she listened as he padded down the hallway. Turning she noticed his arms full of many different supplies. He had his crayons, markers, colored pencils, regular pencils, and glue. Mary also suspected she saw glitter in there somewhere but Sherlock had already turned and dumped his load on the table. Hopping up in his chair, he fidgeted impatiently until he heard Mrs. Hudson's footsteps coming up the stairs.

The older woman walked into their kitchen, in her arms she carried a rolled up piece of paper, Mary was sure it was going to be made into a banner and a few loose pieces of paper.

"Alright dear, card first or banner." The two women watched awwing at how adorable Sherlock was as he considered heavily.

"Banner, I think. ITh's going tho thake longer and ith has tho be perfecth!" He announced. The two women helped him push the tables out of the way as he lay out the banner and began to work on it vigorously. It took him a couple hours before he finally deemed it perfect and enlisted the adults help to hang it up across the living room where everyone could see. THen he settled down to the table, tongue poking out as he worked meticulously on the man's birthday card. IT was an exciting day. Sherlock often asked Mary for her opinion, grinning up at her as she bustled around the kitchen getting the snacks together. About an hour before John was expected home Mrs. Hudson carted the chocolate cake upstairs. It was two layers, covered in peanut butter frosting with candy flowers all over it. On top she had written "Happy Birthday Daddy" on it. When Sherlock questioned her, she responded that since he had made the cake it should be from him.

As the clock counted down, people began to appear. First was Lestrade who set about helping them set up a couple of tables in the living room for the food and the presents. There was already three presents and a card. One from each of the adults and of course Sherlock's contribution. Then they began carting the eggrolls, cheese cubes, rye bread and dip, chips and punch out onto the food table. In the center the cake was placed. By then the rest of the guests had showed up. Harry was settled on the couch, studying her nephew who was cuddled in Mary's arms as she spoke with Lestrade. Donovan was settled in a chair speaking with Anderson. Major Shoto had been unable to attend, but Mike Stamford had made it and seated himself opposite of Harry. Molly sat in between them and looked disbelievingly at the child. Lestrade had filled her in, but she had tried to refuse to believe it. Tried because she knew with Sherlock Holmes anything was possible. But now looking at the seven year old that was sleepily laying his head on Mary's shoulder she knew there was no doubt.

There were murmurings of voices as people talked and visited, getting to know one another or greeting people that they hadn't seen in a while. It was cozy and relaxed until Sherlock sat up, tilting his head towards the open window.

"SHH!" He called out. "It's daddy!" While he whispered, he had caught everyone's attention and they quieted, forming a line behind the tables they waited listening as the footsteps came up the stairs.

For John it had been a long day. He missed Sherlock and he missed Mary. He'd found the items with relative ease, but there were several hours to go before he could go home. Wandering down the street he had found an interesting store. Smiling brightly he had walked in. Forty minutes later he had walked out with a bag full of items. Several books on beekeeping, a small bee statue and some bee paper and pens. He also bought a large container of honey. He couldn't wait to present them to the boy when he got home.

His steps lighter he decided to stop at Angelo's but deciding he'd rather have a snack with Sherlock at home, he only ordered a small salad and some tea. Sitting he doubled checked his list to be sure he'd gotten everything. Mostly they were food items. But they were food items that were popular forms of 'science project' he was also sure he'd bought the stuff for a home made volcano. Oh well as long as the boy cleaned up after himself...

Glancing down at his watch he gauged that he could grab a cab now and still make it home on time. Nabbing his arms full of purchases he managed to flag down a cab with unusual speed. Giving the address, he sat back and sighed, rolling his neck at the tension in it.

PUlling up, he paid the cabbie and got out gathering his things. He glanced up but noticed the flat looked a bit dark. He also couldn't hear the normal chattering from Sherlock he normally could. Wondering if they had gone out to lunch on their own, he simply shrugged and let himself into the house. He didn't notice the unusual amounts of cars parked on the street, nor did he see his wife, holding their son as they peeked out the window to seem him on the stoop, holding back giggles. Huffing he closed the door and carried his purchases slowly up the stairs. Worried a couple times that he was going to drop them. As he reached the door to the living room, he shuffled his items and grasped the handle letting the door slowly creak open.

"SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOHN (DADDY)!" At this John did lose the bags. Jumping back in shock and looking around all the faces who were smirking at him.

John blinked unsure what to say, and just blinked some more. It was his birthday? No it couldn't be. He counted the days in his head. Tomorrow, he guessed, tomorrow was his birthday. But he had forgotten. At this a huge smile formed on his face as he gazed around at his friends. His eyes landed on the huge banner, clearly made by Sherlock. His name was in bright blue with globs of blue glitter adding to its overall glamour. Little drawings of bee's and people were decorated around the words. John felt tears come to his eyes, as looking closely he saw the likeness of him and Sherlock sitting together looking at a book. There was a speech bubble near the drawing of Sherlock that read "I love you daddy!" Tears glistening in his eyes, he gazed around finally catching sight of his grinning wife and the boy who was smiling nervously at him.

Nodding to people as he went, he strode across the floor to stand before his family. "I have the best wife." He looked at Mary. "But I also have the greatest son anyone could ask for." He turned and looked at Sherlock, whose face went bright pink, as he chewed on Hamish's wing. John scooped him out of Mary's arm and hugged him close unwilling to put him down for a second.

"You are so amazing Sherlock. To go through what you have and be so kind and considerate." John could feel the tears returning to his eyes. "It's an honor to know you."

THe boy hugged him tighter and turned his head so his mouth was near the older man's ears.

"Love you daddy." He said simply.

After several moments Sherlock sat up, kissing his John on the cheek. That caused a wave of awe's from the crowd, which the child ignored in favor of tugging on John's collar.

"You gonna open your presenth's? An eath your cake?" His eyes were sparkling and excited especially when John nodded yes.

The rest of the afternoon was fantastic for John. He opened his presents, giggling as Lestrade, Donovan, and Anderson gave him first aid kits. They each kept glancing at Sherlock.

"Just in case." They said smirking at the man as the boy cuddled in his mommy's lap apparently oblivious.

Mike got them a family's day at a nearby theme park. Mary's present was a picture of John and young Sherlock, they were in SHerlock's bed cuddled together as JOhn read to the boy. They both had gentle smiles on their faces, unaware that they were being watched. Harry of course had given him a gift card to some tavern or other. Annoyed, he tried to hide it and thanked her. Then he opened the best last. It was a homemade card from Sherlock. There was a drawing of John as a soldier, John as a civilian, and John as a Daddy. At the top in neat printing he had written "Happy Birthday..." opening it, written was "To My Hero. I love you! Sherlock." Turning he reached over and squeezed Sherlock's hand.

"This is the best present anyone could have given me." Sherlock smiled brightly at him, sticking his tongue out as the rest of the guests booed good-naturedly.

Later they dug into the cake, Sherlock who had a huge sweet tooth they had discovered, came for seconds. As John looked around, his heart warmed. He was surrounded by his favorite people, looking down at Sherlock in particular he thought, I am blessed.

Alright, next chapter there's going to be trouble with Harry. Hope you enjoyed the birthday. I promise there will be a bad guy in this series I just haven't reached that point yet. R&amp;R!


	15. Chapter 15

DO NOT OWN! Here is the Harry chapter. There are always step backwards in the healing process and here is one of them. Sorry to any possible Harry lovers there are out there. I'm not very nice sometimes lol.

88

John's birthday party had fallen at a good time. Or so he had originally thought. It was of course summer, and while Sherlock enjoyed learning and school Mrs. Hudson attempted to get him a little more active in the nice months, while John and Mary were at work. The week following his birthday, however, she had plans to go visit her sister whose birthday happened to fall the following weekend. They had been scrambling to find a replacement for her so she could take a well deserved two weeks off. Unfortunately everyone that Sherlock was comfortable with worked and they weren't going to stick the social anxious boy with some random person. It had nearly reached the point where John would take one week and Mary the next...that was until Harry came into the picture. John was wary about allowing her to watch Sherlock, with her drinking problems and all. But she appeared to be sober, and after a slow start she and Sherlock seemed to get along.

"I just don't know." John whispered looking from the kitchen into the living room, where Sherlock was showing Harry some experiment or other. The woman was smiling gently down at the boy and seemed to at least somewhat be following what the boy was saying.

"John its not like we're never going to be here. Its just during the day. We'll be here in the evenings. You always say you want to reconnect with her, how are you going to do that if you don't give her a chance to prove she's changed." Mary said, rubbing her husband's arm soothingly as she too glanced into the living room.

"Fine, yes you're right. If she agree's that is." Mary smiled encouragingly at him as he stood and headed for the living room.

"Noo Harry!" SHerlock giggled. "The books noth the righth way!"

"Oh really?" She was holding it upside down and turned it sideways." How about now?"

"No silly!" He looked up at her eyes twinkling brightly.

"Ah well, you are the master." She said smiling and winking at John. The man smiled back a bit before motioning her to follow him.

"Alright my little scientist, I need to go speak with your mum and dad."

"Hi Daddy!" Sherlock said brightly before turning back to his project, clearly uninterested in what the adults could possibly be talking about.

"Look, Harry. I know. Yea. I know we haven't gotten along great for a long time. But I want to try to be family again." John took a deep breath. "I noticed you came and you were sober and pleasant. I know you don't have a job at the moment. So if you would be interested I..we were wondering if you would like to stay here for two weeks? We need someone to keep an eye on Sherlock during the days since our landlady is going to be out of town." John studied her face trying to gauge her reaction.

Harry smiled brightly at her younger brother. "I'd love to Johnny! I've taken a liking to the little tyke. He's quite smart isn't he?" She looked over her shoulder smiling fondly at the boy who currently seemed to be lecturing Hamish on the finer points of the Periodic Table. The three adults helplessly giggled at the sight. Finally seeming to realize he was being watched, Sherlock looked up and cocked his head studying them.

"Whath are you laughing for?"

Unable to help themselves they laughed harder at the adorable look on his face. Put out, Sherlock stood, grabbing Hamish and marching up to stand in front of John.

"Daddy! Why are laughing? I didn'th think Harry babysitthing would be so funny." Smiling John ruffled his hair, grin widening as he saw the amazement on Harry's face.

"Yea he does that." He said to her before turning back to the impatient child. "We were taken by how adorable you and Hamish are."

"Oh." Sherlock said simply shifting his feet. After months living with them, he still didn't understand why they found him cute rather than annoying. Harry snaked forward and tugged the boy into her lap. He tensed for a moment, not generally sitting in anyone but John's and occasionally Mary's lap. But using John's technique she tickled his sides a bit and he giggled and relaxed.

"We'll be just fine by ourselves, won't we mate."

"Yep!" Sherlock chirped, hugging Hamish as he leaned back against Harry. He relaxed further as she ran her hand through his hair. John studied them, wondering at the differences between them. Harry's hair was long, straight and blond. Sherlock's was to his shoulders true, but black and curly. It was like yin and yang. For a moment he had a flash of misgiving. He really wasn't sure this was a good idea. Harry hadn't been on the wagon long and he wasn't sure being around a child such as Sherlock would be helpful. But looking as they happily spoke to each-other he shook the feeling away. It was his sister and his child, she wouldn't do anything to him. She must know that there would be consequences for that.

88

Harry Watson sat on the couch watching down as her nephew colored some picture or other. Mary had brought him home some coloring books to coax him away from schooling. For which Harry was grateful. She could feel her body shaking, her thirst was almost unbearable but she was handling it barely. Her brother was trusting her with something precious.

"Look Harry, its for you!" Sherlock turned and proudly displayed the picture to her. It was a pirate. Captain Hook she thought. The colors were all perfectly correct and the coloring was also perfect. Perfect little boy with the perfect drawing and the perfect brain with his perfect parents.

Harry snapped out of her thoughts. She shoved her anger and jealousy down. He was a seven year old for christ's sake. A seven year old that had been removed for a terrible situation and was finally getting a real life. How could she be jealous about that.

"That's lovely Sherlock, thank you." SHe gently took it, studying it and placing it next to her. "I shall put it on my fridge when I get home."

She watched him studying her, concern in his face. The way he looked like that, it was like he could see through to her soul, it made her uneasy and she began to feel her anger well up again. Tampering it down roughly, she gave him a crooked smile and looked away. She felt relieved when he finally turned back to his coloring book.

'Just one drink, one drink and you could be happy. You could play with your little nephew and not be angry and jealous.' Her conscious whispered to her as it had since she began drinking at fifteen. She twitched her fingers, drumming them on her leg.

'NO!' She thought back. 'I will be stronger than you!' The voice quietened for the moment, but her hands continued to shake, the burn continued to torture her throat, consuming her thoughts. She was barely aware when Sherlock jumped up excitedly. She twitched wanting to push him down and quiet him. Why is there any reason in this world to be that excited? She controlled herself and finally snapped from her fit as her brother and sister-in-law walked in. Harry felt another twinge when the boy went and jumped into John's arms chattering away. He leaned over to give Mary a kiss before hugging his daddy around the neck as the man walked over to his chair, sitting while responding animatedly to the child he was cuddling.

She should be happy that John was so happy after years of being unhappy. But all she could think of was it wasn't her making him happy like it was when they were children. Her habits had torn a rift between them, one that she had never been able to mend. God she was selfish. She needed to get out and take a breather.

"Well then!" She announced causing the other three to jump. Typical they had forgotten she was there. "Since you two are back I'll let you have your time with Sherlock. I'm going to go out to the movies. There's a monster movie I've been meaning to see." She didn't miss John's piercing look, she simply grinned and waving goodbye made her way down the stairs.

88

Walking quietly into the house, it was well passed midnight. Sticking her things into the little alcove she snuck up the stairs. Sliding into the living room, she nearly jumped out of her skin as a voice spoke from the dark.

"Did you go drinking?" John stood, flicking on a lamp. He was in his housecoat, arms folded, face blank.

"No of course not. I met a bloke at the movies. We went for dinner, just dinner." The drink had been tempting but she had avoided it. Barely. Harry watched as he stepped towards her leaning forward expectantly she breathed out into his face. He took a sniff, looked at her suspiciously again, but unable to detect anything he simply nodded.

"Alright then, hope you had fun. See you in the morning." Reaching out he settled for patting her on the arm before making his way out and up the stairs. She waited until she heard the last creak of his bed being laid on before breathing out in relief. Ignoring her indignation of being checked on like a child, she flipped of the lamp and laid on the couch, tugging the blanket that had been folded neatly on the back around her.

Her dreams that night were angry and frightful. She dreamed of Sherlock sneering at her.

"He's mine now. Not your's. You blew it and now he love's me best."

She tossed and turned feverishly. She saw Mary looking at her pityingly, John angrily berating her, every argument they had had about her drinking coming back full force. His disappointment, his anger and his hate. As he berated her, Sherlock's taunting face circled.

"Harry!" She woke with a start sitting up, only just holding back from smacking whoever had woken her. Blinking black the sleep, she shivered a bit as the air hit the cold sweat coating her skin. Looking over she saw Sherlock peering at her, concerned. Somehow this made her angrier. Why was a seven year old looking concerned about her? Tightening a lid on her emotions, she managed a small smile.

"Morning kiddo. Let me get dressed eh?" Sherlock nodded smiling, before skipping happily into the kitchen to join his parents for breakfast. The shaking in her hands made it almost impossible for her to gather her clothes and go into the bathroom, but she managed it without attracting attention.

She stared at herself in the mirror, dark circles ringed her eyes that were red and puffy. She was biting her lip, a nervous tick that happened when she was craving. She took a deep breath but the burning hunger was back ten fold. She just needed a little drink.

"Yes on little drink, and you can make it through the day." Her conscious echoed at her.

KNOCK KNOCK. She jumped whipping around to the door.

"Yes?" SHe called her voice wavering a bit.

"We're headed out, are you all set?" She heard John's cheerful voice.

"Yep I'll be out in a mo, you guys have a good day." She finished pulling her clothes on listening for what was happening in the living room.

She heard Mary's voice, the high pitched answer from Sherlock. Then John said something before Sherlock giggled. Then footsteps on the stairs.

"BYe Mummy! Bye Daddy love you!"The little voice called down the stairs. His voice shot through her head, irritating her. She just wanted him to shut up. Why did he have to be so loud and obnoxious. Reaching out for her makeup kit, she realized that she had left it in the living room. Sighing in frustration she marched out to get it and stopped. Sherlock was sitting at the coffee table looking through the contents of her kit. THe items were strewn across the table and couch.

"Hey Aunth Harry can I borrow some of this for an experimenth?" He asked carelessly holding up her lipstick. She saw red, but managed to control her temper.

"No you may not, that is expensive." She waited for whining and pleading and was almost annoyed to see the boy simply nod, smile and set it too the side. She felt a burning anger in her belly, the shaking high.

"You know what I'm thirsty."She announced. "I left some drinks downstairs, I'll be right back." Sherlock looked at her curiously but nodded as she marched away and down the stairs. Looking around out of habit to make sure no one was looking she reached into the darkness of the alcove, she sighed as her hand met glass. She pulled out a large bottle of rum. Shaking she opened it and swigged it back. The burning down her throat and into her stomach caused her to moan in relief.

"Oh thank god, oh thank you I missed this." She wiped away the dribbles that tried to run down her face. Deciding that this would taste good with ice, she went back upstairs and gathered a cup and ice settling in to catch up on what she was missing. When she thought of her brothers face, she just chugged back another slug from the bottle. Fuck him, he never understood anything anyway.

A couple hours later and she was properly smashed. Her head was light and floaty deciding she needed to stop so John wouldn't suspect anything she poured another glass before stumbling towards the stairs.

"Are you ok?" A little voice asked from behind her.

"Fineee gooth watchhhh the tell hic telly." She responded before stumbling and slipping down the stairs, giggling at the acrobatics she believed she was doing.

Going back up was a bit more difficult, and she felt her buzz drop a little as she noticed the little twerp was still in the same spot looking at her. He was judging her! The little genius freak was judging her, when he hadn't been able to keep his parents around. Anger built in her.

"Whatta youu lookin at?" She asked hostily.

He flinched but opened his mouth to respond. "I think something's wrong, I should call John." Decided he turned towards the phone. She felt her stomach fall, before thinking about what she was doing she lunged for him. She grasped his wrists hard and turned him to face her.

"Ow!" He yelped struggling. She held on tighter, her fingernails digging in and drawing blood. Taking in his pained expression, his fear she drunk it in. That would teach him to think he was better than her. Stupid bratty child, he would learn his place. If John wouldn't teach him she would.

"You won't say anything do you understand!" She shook him to accentuate her point.

"Ok! Ok! Please let me go." His voice was teary as he looked down and tried tugging his bleeding bruising arms from her grasp. Keeping a tight grip on one of his arms, she raised a hand and backhanded him. His head snapped to the right and immediatly he stopped moving. She felt almost guilty for a minute before the dreams and looks drifted back into her hazy mind, the feeling of power flooded in again. The boy was standing ramrod still. His head was completely down and he was no longer trying to tug his wrist from her grasp although she was holding it as tight as she could and it must have hurt. In a moment of delight she decided she wanted to see the damage inflicted. Ignoring his flinch, she lifted his chin with her hand. His eye was beginning to swell and there was a cut just under his eye. Looking along her hand she realized her finger nail had cut his face as it had his arms.

"Now you're going to listen to me and stop being a bossy little freak, aren't you?" Whimpering the boy nodded, his eyes teary and fearful. "You will tell John you slid and hit the corner of the table won't you?" She gripped his cheeks and forced him to nod his head. "And you will put on a long sleeve shirt to cover these up." She shook his arm to accentuate what she meant.

"I could tell and you'd be in trouble." He whispered voice wavering. She laughed and released his face to grab his other wrist again. She pulled him close so they were eye to eye.

"I'm his sister, and your some kid whose parent's couldn't stand. Who do you really think he'll believe? What's he going to think if you go accusing his dear older sister of hurting you? He'll laugh at you. He may even get rid of you. Why is he going to want some trouble maker around?" As she watched his face crumple a bit, she realized she had him caught. Suddenly she shoved him back and let him go as he tumbled to the floor.

"Noow I'm gonna finish my drinkie, you will go put on a long sleeve shirt and sit quietly in the corner until they come home." She grabbed Hamish from the floor."You'll get this nasty thing back when they get home."

Scrambling to get up, she heard him race down the hall. Sniggering at how she'd one uped a so called genius she went and finished her drink. Going to brush her teeth, and cleaning the cup vigorously she decided to sit and catch up on some reading. Sitting she glanced over at the boy whose nose was stuck in the corner. She could see his shoulders moving a bit. Crying, how pathetic.

"YOu had best cut that out so you look normal when they get home." She snapped, and watched smirking as he struggled to pull himself together. His hands were clenching, she assumed it was habit from that bee.

When John and Mary were on the stairs, she whispered for him to get out of the corner and tossed Hamish at him. He stood straight, face blank as the two adults entered the room. He made a beeline for John hugging him around the legs. When John exclaimed about what happened to his face, he told the story flawlessly. THe only thing noticeable was that Sherlock was glued to John for the rest of the evening, but they didn't find it too unusual because he often did that when in a funky mood.

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John was at a loss. There was something wrong with Sherlock, and he was sure it was Harry's doing but the boy wouldn't speak and he couldn't catch her doing anything. THe boy had been withdrawn and quiet for the better part of a week. The minute that John walked into the door he planted himself near him and wouldn't move until bedtime. Even then, he would be found on the floor outside their room every morning. He was pale and jumpy. Harry suggested he was missing , but while John was sure he did he knew that wasn't the entire case. The boy also seemed to be very cold lately, he was wearing long sleeves even in the middle of summer. John would have thought he was in some sort of shock. It was Monday, and SHerlock had been nearly normal by Sunday so he thought that whatever was bothering him might not be anymore. That was until he saw a tear leak from the boy's eye as he tried to leave for work. Sherlock of course wiped it away quickly. But his large blue/green eyes were haunted and fearful. John's heart broke as he had to say goodbye to the boy and leave.

His day was going crap, it only had been a few hours but he'd been off his game. He couldn't take it anymore. Leaving his office, he told Mary and the other nurses he was going home. Without waiting for a response he ran out and hopped into a cab.

Reaching 221B he snuck quietly in. And moved up the stairs listening closely while being sure to miss the creaks.

"It'sss only whathhh you deservee taking advantage of my brotherss kindness, taking him from used to lovee mee. But now he loves you some freakish boy."

Red, he saw red, storming up the stairs he burst into the living room. She was looming over Sherlock who was laying on the floor, curled up and shaking. He saw Hamish in one hand and a pair of scissors in another. SHe'd been about to rip into him until her drunken brain caught up that they weren't alone anymore. Turning she smiled brightly at her brother, weaving about.

"Heeeyyy Johnny. Juss teachinnn the little tykee a lessons. He dropped his glass and spilttt milk. Whatta waste right?"

Yep red, he marched forward gently removing Hamish. He wanted to hit her, he could taste the want in his mouth. But looking down at the small fearful child who was peeking up at him. He knew he couldn't, the boy had known too much violence in his life and he wasn't going to have him associate it with JOhn too. Especially not when he found the man to be his safety place.

"Harriet. GET. . OUT.!" He said seethingly.

"But-".

"NO BUTS! GET THE FUCK OUT AND DON"T COME BACK! YOU ARE DEAD TO ME! I HAVE NO SISTER!"

"You're taking his side over mine?"

"Mm to date he hasn't tortured someone out of jealousy especially not an innocent child."

"He's not innocent, his parents thought he was a freak."

Unable to help himself he grabbed her shoulder hard he turned her towards the stairs, grabbing her bag along the way. He pushed her stumbling down the stairs, and pushed her out the front door. He watched impassive as she tripped and tumbled down on the sidewalk. He threw her bag next to her.

"Please Johnny-" She said her eyes glistening, a little sobriety coming through.

"Just were you belong, in the gutter." He said snidely, slamming the door in her face. Turning without another thought to her, he raced back up the stairs. Sherlock was were he left him. He went and scooped him up, feeling the flinching and hearing a whimper as he did so. He gritted his teeth, what the fuck had she done? He carried the boy gently down the hall to his bedroom. Setting him down, he tilted his chin carefully upwards. Another flinch.

"Where does it hurt?" There was no point in asking if he hurt, John was aware he did and he wasn't sure that Sherlock would tell him the truth otherwise.

Biting his lip, the boy fiddled around a moment before attempting to tug of his long sleeved shirt. John nearly ran after his sister, she wasn't in front of Sherlock he could hit her. But he couldn't leave the boy who was looking brokenly up at him. Lip out, eyes shattered. He had bruises on his wrists, little cuts, and bruises littered on his shoulders and back.

"Tell me the truth, did she hurt you anywhere else." Shakingly Sherlock lifted his arm and placed it against his chest, willing John to understand what he meant.

"Jesus." The man said leaning back."I pulled you out of one abusive situation and I put you in another. I don't deserve to be your father." He felt his own tears coming as he put a hand to his face trying to control his emotions.

"Please don'th leave me." Even his voice was broken.

"YOu can't get rid of me." John responded looking at the boy. "But why didn't you tell me."

The child opened his mouth to speak, closed it, before opening it once more. "She said you wouldn'th believe me cuz she was your sisther and I was justh the freaky kid you thook in cuz I was thoo freaky for my own parenths." He would kill her, if he saw her near Sherlock again child or adult he would kill her.

"She was lying. I have had a tough relationship with Harry for a long time. But now...well don't worry there isn't one at all anymore." He caught the boy's look. "And you can stop that thought right there. It is not your fault. She cares more about drinking than anyone else. I'm sure she agreed to babysit so she could get her hands on money to buy booze. YOu are not the first person she has hurt with this habit and unfortunately you won't be the last. I told you before, you are my number one. I won't choose anyone over you. I love you, and I need you."

Sherlock smiled tentatively at him. "I need you tho."

Stroking the boys cheek he was pleased when he didn't flinch and instead leaned in soaking up the loving touch. After a moment he stood and went to the bathroom to get a first aid kit. He settled about cleansing the little cuts and giving Sherlock a childrens pain killer to help with the bruises. Then he carefully helped him into some light comfy pj's before tucking him in the bed. Then John laid down and cuddled up next to him, pulling the child so his head lay on his chest.

"Go to sleep love, I have you." He whispered running his fingers through the curly hair until his breathing evened out and John knew he was sleeping. Holding him closer, John felt himself drifting off as well, his last thought was taking the rest of the week off. Maybe even another, he would have to discuss it with Mary.

That night Mary walked in to find the two of them cuddled together, Sherlock had migrated from the bed and managed to being laid across John's whole body. Snuggled with Hamish tightly in his grip. She saw her own red when the bruises became apparent on his wrists.

Later after Sherlock had been fed and they had given him a lot of TLC he was back in bed and sound asleep, the talked. Mary tried to apologize for pushing him and he insisted that there was nothing to apologize for he could have said no but he'd wanted to give her another chance and Sherlock had paid. They paced, trying to burn off their anger as they decided that John should be the one to take time off as Sherlock was closer to him and they weren't sure if they would be taking a step backwards with his and Mary's relationship now that he'd been hurt by another woman he was supposed to trust. Finally in the wee hours of the morning, exhausted, John called the hospital and took the time. Then he crawled into bed with his wife.

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Ok so that was a mean chapter. The next I promise will be cute and fluffy. They learn Sherlock doesn't like thunder and lightening at all. R&amp;R.


	16. Chapter 16

DO NOT OWN! The adults discover Sherlock's fear of thunderstorms, cuteness commences.

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*CRACK* John bolted awake, blinking around trying to decide what had woken him. Listening intently he heard the pouring of rain and the rumble of thunder before another crash of lightening lit up the room. For just a moment he thought he heard another low pitch noise but he couldn't figure out what it was. Looking over he noticed in the gloom that Mary was sitting up looking at him. She shrugged, apparently she'd heard the noise as well. John stood and grabbed his housecoat and secured it around him. He looked through the gloom trying to see what was making the small noises, another rumble and crash of lightening and he heard a clear whimper this time. Coming from the hallway.

Moving towards the bedroom door, opened a crack so they could hear if Sherlock needed them in the night,he opened it fully. Peering out blankly, his eyes finally adjusted and he just made out a small bundle curled to the left of the door. It was shaking and little noises were coming from it. John felt his heart constrict as his sleep filled brain finally connected that Sherlock had been frightened of the storm and come seeking comfort but was still to uncomfortable with coming to them in the middle of the night.

When the whole situation with his good for nothing sister had happened, he had tried to convince Sherlock that if he needed them in the night that they wanted him to come wake them up. But apparently he hadn't been able to bring himself to do that. Sighing sadly, John leaned over and placed a gentle hand on the boy. Feeling the bones of his spine which were still a bit more prominent than he would have liked, he ignored the slight flinch as Sherlock looked up at him.

"I'm sorry I woke you Daddy." He whimpered, his voice seemed to be full of tears.

Another boom and flash of lightning, they seemed to be coming closer together, showed Sherlock's tear streaked face looking pleadingly at John. The man's heart melted, the boy may have been nervous to come get him, but he was still looking for John to fix it. Reaching his other arm down he scooped Sherlock, being sure that Hamish was tucked under the boys arm, before turning and walking into the room. He stopped just a moment and used his foot to kick the door shut before moving slowly towards the bed, making sure not to trip and lose his precious cargo.

Finally when his knees hit the bed he gently lay Sherlock down, giving him a gentle push once he was on the mattress.

"Move over closer to mummy,so I can get in." The little boy moved, suddenly faster at another strike from the heavens. His whimpers were louder, little sobs mixed in. John hurriedly removed his robe tossing it to the side before climbing into the bed. Settling the blankets around him, he rolled onto his side. He could just see Sherlock laying his back against Mary who had her arm tucked around him. His eyes peered at him through the gloom, still teary, still pleading. John moved closer to the boy cuddling him against his neck as he put an arm around him as well.

"Shh love its ok." He decided to tell the story his mother had always told." It's just God bowling, the thunder is when he gets a strike, the lightning is him celebrating." He felt Sherlock shift in his arm, moving closer, his breath puffing against his shoulder.

"My-they used to lock me in the attic when I got scared by the storm. They said they weren't going to have a wimpy child. It was so loud and scary. The attic always leaked and I thought the lighting would get me." He sobbed louder.

Mary let out a litany of filthy words at the boys story squeezing him tighter. There were times when the two adults wished there was a machine that they could just implant their love for him into him, so he could feel how much they felt for him, how much they wanted to take care of him and be with him. Instead she settled for stroking his hair, while John cuddled him and whispered sweet nothings into his ear.

Sherlock's sob's quieted but he could still tell the boy was awake and thinking, his little body was tense and his fingers were clasping and unclasping on John's shirt. John placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Tell me whats wrong Lock." He felt the boy shaking a bit, knew that he was debating whether to speak and what to say.

"Am I so bad?"

"What?" John asked shocked, not the response he had expected.

"My parents didn't want me, said I was a freak. My brother doesn't want me, your sister hates me." He was shuddering now. "Kids at school. Why do people hate me? What did I do that was so wrong? The kids say I'm to smart and snotty but my parents say I'm stupid and slow." Deep ragged sobs. "I just don't understand. I wish I could be good, so people wouldn't want me to hurt anymore."

John didn't have a chance to scoop the boy up, because Mary beat him too it. Lifting him, she encircled him in her arms and began to coo in his ears. Rubbing his back and rocking him in an attempt to quiet his tears.

"Oh my lovely boy, my darling sweet boy. You were a victim of circumstance, and you have done nothing wrong." John heard him whisper something to her in return. "They were wrong. You are so very kind, who else would help grandmum clean her flat? Or bake her cakes? Who else listens patiently to Daddy when he complains about the incompetent nurses."

"OI!" John said, heart lightening when he heard a small hiccoughed giggle.

"You are sweet, look at the mothers day celebration for me and grandmum. How about Daddy's birthday party you planned on your own? Clearly you are intelligent, you know more than we do on most subjects."

"Nuh uh!" It was one thing that they did that bothered Sherlock. He didn't like being considered smarter than Mary and John. He said they loved him and cared for him. They put up with him so they must be smarter to be able to do that. To date they hadn't managed to win that conversation, so they tended to avoid it.

"Well you're at least smarter than Mycroft." John added, another giggle. While his brother was a bit of a sore spot, Sherlock seemed to understand why his brother did what he did and was willing to giggle a bit at the man's expense once in a while.

"There is everything to love and care about with you Sherlock and if those people can't see it, its their loss and our privilege." She smiled a bit at John as she quoted the statement he'd once said to her when rekindling their marriage.

"I love you daddy, mummy." His voice was filled with sleep. Kissing him on the temple, Mary rolled to lay him gently on the mattress once more. Immediately he reached out his free hand to fist it into John's shirt. Mary continued to rub his back, and she began to hum a song. While the two adults cuddled the boy between them, the storm rose in intensity, but they listened as his breathing slowed and deepened. They smiled at each other, in a flash of light. Finally arms wrapped around each other and the adorable little boy between them, their own eyes closed and they drifted off to dream.

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Shorter but hopefully sweet. Next one the three adults are going to take Sherlock out somewhere. I'm thinking the zoo but I may change my mind. Ron will be returning as well I think. R&amp;R


	17. Chapter 17

DO NOT OWN! Worry not readers, either the next chapter or the one after that we will find out who did this to Sherlock. I just wanted him to have a little peace first. Here he is on an outing.

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Finally John and Mary decided that they could take Sherlock out on a day trip. For months they'd been doing dinner weekly, and then dinner and a movie, once in a while lunch and the park. He didn't really seem to enjoy the park because of all the children, who were naturally curious about new potential playmates and tried to crowd around him. They decided he needed a bit more time getting used to groups of people in general without being mobbed.

The two had been sitting cuddled on the couch watching lovingly as Sherlock drew some pictures Hamish as his model. Watching as one of the pictures he began to label the different pieces of the bee's body, John felt Mary shift. He turned to look at her expectantly, curious about the wide smile on her face.

"Sherlock love, how would you like to go and learn more about bee's like Hamish?" The boy looked up grinning.

"Really? Can we do thath?" He asked bouncing a bit where he sat.

"What are you thinking about dear?" John asked, still completely at a loss.

"The Natural History Museum! I was reading about it in the waiting room the other day. One of their major exhibits are bee's."

"Daddy can we go?" Sherlock looked up at John pleading. How could he say no especially to date it was the first time he'd given input on one of their outings.

"Sounds like the perfect thing to do on Saturday." He said, chuckling as Sherlock let out a whoop and jumped into his lap to hug him.

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The day of the trip was a drizzly day, making it even more perfect for such a trip. Sherlock was excitable, dressed and sitting impatiently at the breakfast table. He'd yet to touch his pancakes, and finally feeling a bit bad but keeping in mind Sherlock was still not his correct weight John gave an ultimatum.

"Sherlock you must eat at least one of your pancakes or we aren't going anywhere. You'll be grumpy and unresonable if your tummy is empty and we do all that walking around."

Huffing a little Sherlock finally dug in, and after tasting the chocolate syrupy goodness he managed to finish both pancakes and a glass of milk. Satisfied, John ruffled his hair before helping Mary to finish cleaning the dishes. The two of them couldn't help but smile as they walked down the stairs and saw Sherlock, Hamish under one arm, their jackets in his hand bouncing up and down in anticipation.

Taking their coats, they made sure to wrap a scarf around the boys neck to keep him from catching cold. Then they let themselves out of the flat. They went up to the street keeping an eye out for a cab when a voice called out from behind them.

"Woohoo, John dear I have a question to ask if you don't mind?" As there weren't any cabs anyway John and Mary headed back to the landlady.

As they were talking, Sherlock heard a noise and his name. Looking wildly he finally spotted someone down the block poking their head around the corner. Glancing back at the adults he walked towards the figure and as he got closer a small smile broke out on his face. Ron smirked back at him before waving him over. Sherlock picked up the pace and rounded the corner. He was surprised when he was pulled into a hug by the boy but took it in stride, trying not to flinch too much.

"'Ey mate 'ow are yea?" Ron asked looking down at the boy.

"I'm good, we're going to see bees!" He said excitedly hugging the worn Hamish close.

Looking faintly confused as to why that would be exciting, never the less Ron congratulated him. "'Ope you have fun mate, meanwhiles, I wanted to introduce you ta my sister." From the shadows behind him came a taller girl. She was thin, and still looked like she was recovering from the illness. Her bright green eyes peered from her pale face although she had a shy smile.

Sherlock reached forward with a hand, blushing a bit as she took it. Leaning over he kissed it as he'd seen gentlemen do on the tv.

"Pleasure to meet you er..." He looked to Ron who guffawed.

"Sorry mate, Jean. She's a bit shy."

Sherlock snickered when Jean sent her brother a withering stare before turning back to her boy savior.

"I want to thank you Sherlock, for helping me." Her voice was light and high like a bell.

"No-no pro-oblem." Sherlock stuttered. Letting out a hum of laughter she leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. He was sure he couldn't blush any redder.

"Sherlock? Where are you?" He heard John's voice and turned to look around the corner, seeing him and his mum with a cab waiting. He turned back to say goodbye but the two other children were gone. Shrugging Sherlock turned and trudged down the sidewalk.

John looked down at him, trying to disguise his worry. "Don't do that. Given me a heartattack here." Sherlock was puzzled by the very real fear coming from the adults but he attempted to shrug it off and instead said "There were a couple kids, I just needed to say hi."

The adults looked at each other unsure what to make of this. Sherlock never spoke to anyone besides a few choice adults. But rather than discouraging him they lifted him into the cab and shot off the address to the museum. The car ride seemed long to Sherlock who was fidgeting, his mind already on to the bee's ready to study them. He began to whisper a bit to Hamish about all they'd learn about him and his family. He missed the adoring looks the adults gave him as he chattered away to his friend.

Arriving, it took all of the boys willpower to stay with the adults and not run ahead. He was finally gaining confidence and being a child but he still wasn't secure enough to act completely outrageous. The three went in and paid for the tickets, the friendly woman at the counter smiling down at Sherlock and enquiring the name of his companion. Sherlock suddenly in the spotlight, hid himself behind John's knee clutching his pants. He looked out with one eye before mumbling Hamish's name, to the lady that simply praised him on such a lovely fit for his bee.

As they walked away, Sherlock did manage to turn and wave at the nice lady who smiled and waved back before turning to her next customer. Then he was back in focus. The room was huge and there were tons of exhibits set up, in one area there was lightening exhibit, that made your hair stand up straight, in another you could make bubbles as big as yourself. Glancing around he tried to take everything in, and didn't know where to start. He was finally pulled from his musings as John knelt down before him.

"You ok?" He whispered, catching on to the slightly overwhelmed look on the boys face. Sherlock looked at him helplessly hoping the man would know what he needed.

"How about we go floor by floor. The bee's are at the top so we go there last and spend as long as you like." Unable to put words into his gratitude the boy instead hugged his father tightly before pulling him over to the lightning stand. He really wanted to see mummies hair stand on end.

The day ran smoothly, Sherlock was enthralled by all of the exhibits, but surprising, at least to Mary and John, he seemed to enjoy the ones having to do with animals most. Sherlock had never mentioned having an affinity with animals but the boy was raptured by the displays and the info cards and spent more time studying them than anything else. The only thing that raptured him more, which wasn't a surprise, was the chemistry type things. One man was demonstrating how to make your own gum using such or other ingredients. Seeing the look on Sherlock's face, John stepped over to the man after the demonstration, to get the list of ingredients.

Right before they finally made it to the bee exhibit, it was lunch time. They managed to tear Sherlock away from a display about all different sized cats. In fact he'd been patting the model house cat enthralled. Going down he'd been looking through the menu and kept glancing longingly at the item advertising dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets, which gave a free milkshake along with it. Sighing the boy told John he wanted spaghetti and meatballs and milk. When John ordered the chicken nuggets and a chocolate milkshake instead, Sherlock looked at him amazed.

"Are you a mind reader?" He asked bewildered.

John tweaked him on the nose and winked at Mary before replying. "No , I just had a friend that once told me I see but do not observe. I've tried to correct that."

"My says thath all the thime!" Sherlock said excitedly before turning to the placemat and crayons the waitress had brought for, 'the adorable little tyke'. He'd once again blushed furiously as she cooed over him, but had clearly been pleased when the placemat was a bunch of animals including a cat and a honey bee. Tongue poking out he got to work and was just finishing the final touch when their food arrived.

John and Mary ate their burgers and watched as Sherlock mowed down his nuggets, fries and sucked his milk shake dry. Sitting up at last, John hid a smile as Mary reached over and wiped away his ketchup mustache. Finishing up themselves, they took everything to the bin before following the energetic child to the stairs that would lead them to the final destination.

The boys eyes went wide as they finally stepped up. The room had been decorated to look like honey combs, and there were pictures of bee's everywhere. In one corner there was an actual bee's nest behind plexi glass where the bee's could come from outside and take shelter and people could observe, masses of them wriggled about. Sherlock made his way over there first and by the time John and Mary had caught up he'd already picked out the Queen bee and was quoting to them that the reason the bee's came and left is because the museum owners had brought in a queen bee and planted her in their man made hive. He spent a long time watching them move around and work. Mary finally coaxed him over to look at a few other displays detailing how bee keepers cared for and got honey from bee's. He also took a liking to the break down of a bee's body and the hive mentality. But always he wandered back and stared mesmorized by the live bee's before him.

They'd spent hours up there and it was nearing dinner time.

"Alright Sherlock, its time to go." He saw the pout begin. "We'll come back I promise, but we have to make one more stop before we leave the museum."

Confused, Sherlock allowed himself to be steered away from the bee's. The adults knew he had no idea what they had missed and he still didn't seem to get it as they walked into the gift shop.

"You make pick two items. One from us and one from Grandmum who was sorry not to be able to make it." They knew it was to be a day trip and as much as she wanted to join them knew her hip wouldn't have any of it. So instead she had stopped them just before they left and pressed a bill into their hand to get him something special.

Sherlock looked up at them. "Buth you broughth me here, I don'th..." Mary cut him off gently.

"Part of the fun is having a souvenir or two to remember the trip by. We want you to remember how much fun you had." She placed a gentle hand on him giving him a light push.

"Go on." Glancing up at them he finally gave in and began to wander around the store, hugging Hamish close and mumbling to him.

The adults sat in a bench by the doorway relaxing a bit while they waited. In what seemed to be no time at all Sherlock came up to them grinning. One hand was grasped something small that they couldn't see, in another was a mechanical claw that if you squeezed the handle and it would pick up items for you.

"Ah very cool, that'll come in handy won't it." John nodded approvingly. "What else did you get?"

Shyly Sherlock opened his hand. In it was a package that contained two pins. One was a regular bee, and the other was a worker bee. Taking the items, John went to the counter to pay while Sherlock hopped up on the bench and cuddled close to Mary. As much fun as he had it appeared to both adults that his patience with crowds was dwindling and anxiety was starting to peak through. As quick as he could he purchased the items and as he walked back Sherlock reached his arms up tiredly asking to be picked up. Handing the bag over to Mary he obliged cuddling the boy and his bee close before leading them out and finding a cab.

Later tucked back in the apartment on the couch, dinner having been had. They sat cuddling the boy tight to push away his anxieties, when suddenly he popped up. Without a word he ran to his room, Mary and John stared at each other only looking up when he padded back in excitedly. Jumping up in between them once more he held out one closed fist to John and one to Mary. Tears came to their eyes as she took the queen bee pin and he took the worker bee pin.

"So you can remember the day thoo." Sherlock said proudly looking up at them. When the tears started down Mary's face, and even a stray one from John's his face fell.

"Was thath wrong?" He asked worriedly.

"No you sweet boy." John said hugging him close.

"It was just right." Mary finished hugging both her boys lovingly.

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Alright I think the next chapter is going to be the one everyone has waited for. Who did this to him and why? Hope you enjoyed. R&amp;R


	18. Chapter 18

DO NOT OWN! The chapter most of you have been waiting for. Hope it is up to your expectations.

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They paced around the air filled with tension. Lestrade was in the kitchen yelling into one phone as another rang. Donovan answered that one and began her own yelling. The Empty Hearse club was in the living room surrounding a map and discussing back and forth, little arguments breaking out. Forty eight hours, John kept thinking, forty eight hours and they had not a clue where his precious boy had been taken too.

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-Forty eight hours previously-

Sherlock was antsy, John could tell. There seemed to be something fascinating outside the flat, but every time John went to look he saw nothing but the street and a few cars. The boy kept bouncing and sending side long glances at him. Maybe he wanted to go outside? Sherlock hadn't shown much interest in that before. Although Mrs. Hudson was down running Speedy's. Maybe he wanted to pop in? Another bounce and sidelong glance. Finally John ruffled the paper and looked over at the boy.

"Why don't you go down to Speedy's and say hi for a moment."

Sherlock brightened and ran over, placing a sloppy kiss on John's cheek before taking stairs two at a time down and went out the door. John wished later, that he had noticed Hamish still sitting on the table. If he had he would have gone after the boy as an excuse to see what had him excited, and perhaps he could have prevented this whole thing from happening. As it was he went back to his paper and it wasn't until later that the forlorn stuffed bee was discovered in Sherlock's favorite corner of the floor where he often curled up with a book.

Sherlock bounced out and looked around. Down the corner he spotted Ron who grinned and waved at him. Grinning back, he skipped his way down the sidewalk. If he had not been distracted trying to see if his sister was with him, he may have noticed the dark van parked on the sidewalk. He might of noticed as he began to pass the door sliding open and a masked figure poke out. As it was he didn't know anything was amiss until he saw Ron's concerned face and felt arms grip him roughly about the waist and tug him into the van. He screamed and was sure he heard a voice yell his name before he felt a fist backhand him. Laying across the metal floor of the van stunned, he could do nothing as he felt his hands bound behind him.

Getting his breath back he started to yell. "Let me go! Daddy! Daddy!" He felt strong arms grip him roughly once more and felt a piece of duct tape slapped across his mouth. He looked fearfully into the cold dangerous eyes of his kidnapper.

"Shut up kid, or you'll regret it. Our master has decided its time to pick up his prize, and your it." Laughing along with the driver he tossed the boy back, whose head bounced across the door and he knew no more.

When he next came to he had a headache stemming from where he'd hit his head. Blinking his eyes open, he realized he was dangling from his arms in the center of a building. His eyes darted around taking in the equipment, the amount of dust and came to the conclusion he was in a deserted warehouse. Why was he there? He hadn't recognized the people as ones that generally worked for his parents and had him brought back if he tried to run. Besides a warehouse wasn't their style. They preferred the comfort of their own basement. Hearing a high evil laugh behind him, he tried to twist, not liking anyone at his back. It was easier to get hurt that way.

"Sorry it took so long to get together. But as I've said before, I'm just soo changeable." The sing a song voice struck a chord in Sherlock's mind. He had dreamed about this man, this man was the one that nearly killed John in his adult dreams. How could he be real? Unless...

"I see the wheels turning. HOw do I know him? What does this all mean? I've been keeping a weather eye on you Sherlock Holmes. I know about your dreams. What you don't know is they are all true." Sherlock jumped as best he could as the man circled and got up in his face. The eyes were crazy, and the man was a bit scruffier than he recalled from his dreams. But it was him. It was Moriarty.

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Seventy two hours and John was pacing the flat like a caged animal. Lestrade had called in Mycroft's help to keep the doctor in the flat, at least until they could figure out a location. At this point the man had screamed at Mycroft himself, beaten a few of his lackies, lost it with Lestrade, and even snapped once at Mary. Which he immediately regretted although he chose not to apologize. She would never understand, he had already nearly lost Sherlock three bloody times, he would not do this again, he could not do this again. How could he expect her to understand when one of the times he nearly lost him was to her bullet. John had taken to pacing the flat, staring out clutching Hamish close as if the bee had the secret.

He knew the police and even the government were giving up hope. They had teh van on camera when it had grabbed the boy screaming and squirming from the streets. But then there was nothing. Who besides Sherlock himself knew the streets well enough to avoid the camera's? John knew the answer but if he thought about it too hard, he knew he would lose it. Sherlock in the hands of that man as an adult had jumped off a building. What would the child do in his hands?

Shuddering he nearly missed the bell ringing and rushing footsteps up the stairs. But he did turn and catch sight of a ragged older boy in hand me down clothes. His face was streaked with dirt and he had leaves in his hair. Under one arm appeared to be a rundown skateboard. He looked right at John and opened his mouth to speak.

"What are you doing in here?" Lestrade snapped, in no great humor as he hadn't slept since the whole situation came about.

"Sir I know where he is! I followed. I nearly didn't make it out." The boy breathed out heavily as the officer scoffed and began to drag him out. "Please Mister Watson, he was screaming for you and I know where he is."

"Stop." John ordered and moved closer to the boy getting in his face.

"This is not a joking time."He bore his eyes into the boys, but only saw honesty and fear.

"I understand sir. I know where Sherlock is."

John learned that the boys name was Ron, and he and his sister was what Sherlock had been anxious to see outside. The army doctor couldn't bring himself to be angry, he knew of Sherlock's homeless network and knew I included kids. He was also glad the boy had made friends but now wasn't the time. They followed the kid onto the street and listened to his directions as they climbed into cars.

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"What can you tell me about this man?" Moriarty snapped impatiently. Sherlock was still dangling from the ceiling. His body ached all over from the effort of being held up but also the clever punishments that Moriarty came up with to try and get him to speak. Thus far Sherlock had kept his lips sealed, taking the beatings in stride. He counted it a victory every time frustrated, the man stormed off. He couldn't know much about Sherlock growing up, if he believed this would work.

By the third day the boy was definitely wearing down. His head felt heavy and warm, his eyes could hardly be kept open. His stomach begged for food even as Sherlock tried to push it away like he had once mastered. His throat was dry and scratchy and he doubted he could answer the man's questions regardless.

"I don't understand why you won't speak to me." Moriarty cooed while patting Sherlock's matted hair. The boy flinched and darted a confused glance at the man. He hadn't pretended to be nice since the first day. "You know I'm the only one left. You disobeyed me so I got rid of them."

Sherlock, head still fuzzy didn't quite understand what the man was trying to tell him. The pleased face twisted into anger. Gripping fistful of curls he pulled Sherlocks face close to his own, ignoring the whimpering as he spoke getting spittle all over the boy.

"I fucking made your daddy watch as I skinned your mummy. Although why you would care about her I don't know, she shot you you know. For real. Wanted John all to herself." Sherlock squirmed this wasn't the first time he'd told him his dreams were true and as much as he didn't want to. Sherlock was beginning to believe him, if nothing else everything the man said had happened in them, even the ones he hadn't shared with John."Then I cut your father down. He begged and pleaded to live you know? Said he'd give anything. Including you. What a pity no one cares for you. It was your own brother that told me where to find you."

Sherlock hung his eyes wide, tears brimming. They were ...gone? How? Was it his fault? He should have spoken. He closed his eyes gasping as the man laughed, his memories running through his head. He should have known it was too good to be true. Daddy, mummy. No not mummy she shot him for real she did. His old memories began to overwhelm him. The evil man had said he'd given him something to deage him, so he could bring him under his control. Sherlock was trying to avoid that, but what was the point if his Daddy was dead. His daddy had loved him no matter what and had never done anything to hurt him as an adult. Nothing he didn't deserve, he amended remembering their meeting after he returned from the dead. These memories were like watching tv but instinctually he knew they were his own. He sobbed, ignoring the man taunting him about how much his parents hadn't cared. Wanting to trade him for their own lives. Especially Doctor Watson. Unfortunately for Moriarty, that was the magic word.

Sherlock closed his eyes, memories sped past his minds eye at full speed. Afganistan or Iraq? Telling him he was brilliant instead of to piss off. Making sure he didn't smoke, didn't use too many patches. The times he nearly force fed him, worried about the weight he'd dropped. Times he'd held him when the siren call of the drugs were too much. Jumping to save him, watching him plead with the tombstone that he was alive, getting back to cases. Then he remembered his daddy, tucking him in, cuddling him close. The kisses, the hugs, the whisper of love and pride.

When it all ran out, he opened his eyes, stony with a smirk that was clearly a product of his adult self.

"You messed up Moriarty. Oh don't look like that, nearly every criminal does. It's all part of the game."

"What are you talking about boy?"

"YOu couldn't have killed John Watson, because John is selfless and he never would have traded me for his own life." Lifting his chin haughtily, once again the picture of his adult self he added. "You lose."

He watched smugly as Moriarty's face dropped, turning bright red in anger. The man strode up to him backhanding him as hard as he could. Sherlock laughed as he head snapped to the left and he felt blood run down his face.

"Is that your best shot?" He spit blood and the glob happened to land in Moriarty's face. Sherlock's smirk held even when the criminal began to grin and he was feeling a bit uneasy.

"So beating some sense into you won't work? I should have known, it all has to be mental." Snickering he lifted the boy down from the pole. He automatically began to kick and squirm, but weak from not eating and very little water, he soon tired and was at the mercy of the man. He closed his eyes trying to bring his strength back, only popping them back open when he felt himself set on his feet and his hands released.

"I know your parents taught you a lesson by locking you away. Lets see if it works for me." Sherlock tried to bolt but was pushed backwards as the door slammed shut and a click of the lock echoed with a finality. His eyes darted around. He was locked away! In the dark again. He felt out, his arms bumped into all the walls immediately. There was no room to sit. He heard a screeching and could swear the walls were moving closer. No no! Not again! Mummy and daddy promised not to let this happen.

"LET ME OUT!" He ordered banging on the door, the laughter from outside cut him more than he would have thought. He twisted and turned banging the walls and screaming, his fingernails scratching and breaking as his eyes darted in the gloom trying to find a way out.

"Please!" He was gasping now, completely out of air, his words more breathy than actual vocal. "I'm sorry daddy, please." He felt the tears overwhelm him as the lightheadedness descended. He couldn't give up, if he did the walls would close in on him completely. He whipped around trying to watch them all, at this point gasping apologies and pleas for his daddy echoed in the small space. Overcome with his fear and the shadows of PTSD sneaking up on him, he didn't hear the commotion coming from outside the room.

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John fidgeted in his seat as he sat next to Lestrade, listening to the boy in the back seat for directions. There were cars all around them, some from the station, most from teh government. They had decided against helicoptors after John nearly lost it on Mycroft saying if he gave Moriarty any advanced warning and they lost Sherlock again he'd skin him. It wasn't until later he winced realizing he'd quoted one of the madman's favorite lines. Right now his thoughts were only for the pleading fearful child that had grown into the hurt, broken adult. He would save him even if he had to strangle Moriarty with his bare hands to be sure he couldn't come back this time.

Reaching the deserted warehouses everyone got out and circled around including John and Mary. Several men jumped on the roof and they had a couple covering each window and door. Lestrade quickly led a team including the focused parents into the building. Moving through they heard a small scream echo through the building.

"DADDY!"

John felt the rage engulf him, ignoring Lestrade's angry whisper he took off down the hall following the echoes. Laughter now. They were torturing his son and laughing at him? He felt him self move faster, suddenly he was back in the war. He was skirting around the enemy to reach the wounded and if he had to take some of the other army out on the way. Well that's just something he would have to do. He barely heard the footsteps behind him as he went down on his knees and crawled forward. He was on walkway surrounding a huge room full of equipment. There was a staircase to the left. Keeping low he looked down, he growled as he saw Moriarty and a guard laughing. As they settled down a bit he could hear crying and weak yelling coming from the doorway in front of them. He gritted his teeth and pulled his gun. Times like this he was proud to be a crackshot. Lining it up he prepared to take the shot.

BANG! Moriarty turned for a moment shock on his face. A drip of blood ran down his chest.

"How? HOW!" He looked furioiusly confused until BANG another bullet stopped him from every having another expression again. John was frozen for a moment, frozen because neither bullet had come from his gun. He looked over and saw Mary standing from her position and nodding at him. Her look said that she was used to killing people it had been her job, his had been to save people and now he needed to save their boy. Nodding back, John bolted down the stairs and across. The security guard also taken care of he slid a bit around the mess they had made before making it too the door.

He heard gasping, crying and mumbling. He could barely make out the words.

"I'll be good, I promise. Please Please! Let me out, I'm sorry for what I did." Ignoring the rage that wanted to build he tried to fumble it open realizing he needed a key. Digging through the criminal masterminds pocket he finally found it in his jacket pocket. Scrabbling and nearly losing the key he finally stuck it in the lock turning and throwing the door wide open. He had just a moment for his eyes to adjust. Sherlock was standing as there was no room to sit, his arms covering his face still pleading weakly. JOhn marched in a picked him up. WHen the boy started to wiggle he held tight pushing his head down to the crook of his neck and whispering sweet nothings as he walked passed the bodies. He didn't need to see their gory end. Marching past the police, government officials, and even Mycroft, he whispered to the boy as he took him out of the building and out into the fresh air. Glancing around he saw a little field and carted the boy over. Sitting down, he leaned against a boulder sitting there and held the boy tight.

"It's alright my love, daddy's here, I've got you. He can't hurt you anymore, mummy took care of him." THe body had relaxed a bit until the end where he stiffened back up.

"Shhh its alright I'm here, oh and I have something for you." He managed to peel Sherlock back a bit so he could reach in his pocket, out came Hamish which Sherlock snaked and grabbed before tucking his head back into John's chest. He didn't sob, he didn't say anything, he just sat face hidden, hand fisted tightly in John's shirt as if afraid the man would even consider putting him down in his time of need.

In fact John didn't put him down for more than a minute the rest of the day, and that was to go to the loo. The heartbreaking noises coming from outside the door caused him to go faster and wash his hands quickly before opening the door and bracing himself as the boy gripped him tight shivering and shaking. He refused to go to Mary, , or even Mycroft who had decided to try his hand ignoring for the moment that he had promised to stay out of it. Sherlock was having none of it, he plastered himself against John and that was who he wanted.

Later at bedtime, Sherlock kept glancing at the clock and fearfully at John. He had already bathed and treated the boy earlier, so lifting him he took him to the bathroom to brush, deciding it would be good to keep as much of a normal routine as they could. That finished he carried him into his room. Sherlock grabbed hard for a moment before pulling away like he was burned. John mentally sighed, they were back to square one. Sherlock was too afraid to ask him to stay, to ask for comfort. Sighing he slid into the bed and pulled the boy close. This had been his plan anyway. There was no way he was letting this child out of his sight, especially after being hurt so badly.

As John drifted off to sleep, he wondered just how he was going to fix it this time.

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I hope it was ok. I know it was rather quick but basically this story is about how Sherlock gets on with having new parent figures. I just needed an explanation for why he'd been deaged. More on that next chapter and John trying to figure out how to bring Sherlock back out of his shell.R&amp;R


	19. Chapter 19

DO NOT OWN! I apologize I can't seem to get the name to show up. The teacher is Mrs Hudson. I hope this works better. I do have plans for Sebastion but that won't be until later near the end of the story. For now we focus on Sherlock's recovery from his time with Moriarty.

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Sherlock wouldn't speak, he wouldn't remove himself from John unless it was to go to the loo. He ate only if John was there to coach him along. His sleep was plagued with nightmares, the boy woke up screaming and cuddling closer to John who had basically moved into his room after the first failed night of sleeping in his own room. Sherlock had screamed that night running out calling for his daddy. When John ran down the stairs he couldn't get Sherlock to speak again, but the boy attached himself to the man and refused to let go for the rest of the night.

Most of the time, as long as Sherlock was near John and calm he appeared to be focused internally. Before everything had happened John had been working on the Mind Palace with him, well with little text hints from Mycroft that John kept away from the boy. He wondered if the boy was filing this away, or if he was just sort of stuck between what had happened and that he was safe now. John had taken more time off from work, he was concerned about keeping his job but it seemed a discreet phone call from a certain government official ensured he had as much time off as he needed with a job to come back too. Since Sherlock flinched away and refused to be near Mary they decided it was best for her to continue to work, hoping that John could pull Sherlock from wherever he was while they were home alone.

A week along and he hadn't managed to get anything from Sherlock. He whimpered and whined if John left him alone but he refused to ask for comfort. John was in between forcing him to ask, and being worried that would make things worse. He was worn from the nightmares and being unable to get through to the little boy. He was at the end of his rope unsure what to do. Sighing he lifted Sherlock and brought him into the kitchen, placing him in a chair in sights of John while the man began dinner. His mind began to run. Should they take him to a professional? That wasn't really an option given Sherlock's unique situation. Should he call and see if he could get advice at where to begin? He rubbed his face in frustration. It seemed there was nothing he could do and he hated being helpless with the boy hurting so much. Once more he angrily cursed Moriarty and while he understood why Mary shot instead of him he still wished once in a while that he had been the one to kill him. The man had been torturing Sherlock for as long as John had known him, his web that Sherlock meticulously took down tortured the man when no one was there to help him. Now he'd taken the boy out from under his nose and made him nearly catatonic. The doctor was ready to kick something. He had so much anger, mostly at himself for his lack of watching out for Sherlock but he couldn't leave the child to let off any steam. The words of Lestrade, Mary, Mrs Hudson rang through his mind, telling him it wasn't his fault and Moriarty would have found a way to get him anyway. But he had promised the child he wouldn't let this happen again, and he had vowed long ago to take care of the secretly sensitive, broken genius and this wasn't the first time he had failed him. He snickered bitterly to himself, wishing the adult Sherlock was there with a sarcastic quip. But no he had the silent child, the fearful child and there was nothing he could do.

Dinner was a quiet affair. John sat on one side of the table with Sherlock in his lap, feeding small bites to the absent boy, before picking at his own dinner. He did manage to eat it down, knowing it would be like Sherlock to notice even in his comatose state that John forced him to eat but refused to eat himself. He shoved their plates over to Mary who smiled gently at the two of them as she cleared and began to clean the room. John sighed lifting Sherlock, Mary had been rather late that night so it was near bedtime. Dressing the limp boy he tucked him in, quickly running into the bathroom to get himself ready. The whimpering noises coming from the bedroom broke his heart and spurned him to go faster, until dressed in his own night clothes he finally laid down next to Sherlock and cuddled him close. The noises immediately stopped as the boy fisted a hand in his shirt his breathing calming. John knew something had to give, he didn't dare think of what happened if Sherlock didn't snap out of it.

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Sherlock got flashes of what was going on around him. He knew when John wasn't around and couldn't help the keening that came from him until he felt the man had come back. He shied away from Mary, whenever she came near the memories overwhelmed him. He remembered doing what he could to help her wedding, bonding with her because if John loved her then he must get used to her. Discovering that he did like her, and then the betrayal. He could feel pain pulsing from where she had shot him, but the pain in his heart at her betrayal was greater. He knew now that this was real, that she had really shot him. Sherlock did not open himself to very many people and never all the way. Not until John, not until Mary. To be betrayed and hurt in such a way threw him for a loop. His current memories, warred with the adult memories that he knew were his but couldn't associate as his. He went through the days feeling nauseous as he tried to find a way to slog through everything going on in his mind. Remembering John's mind palace technique and remembering details about it from the adult memories, he slowly began to piece it together. Unaware that time was passing around him, unaware of the concern John was feeling was skyrocketing. He missed the conversations about sending him to a professional, the yelling that happened between Lestrade who wanted to bring someone in to help and John who refused afraid they would take the boy away from him and study him like a science project. He built his palace room by room, floor by floor. Two rooms for each person, a bad room and a good room, half the room for child, half for adult. He built John's rooms as the biggest and safest rooms. They were dark blue Sherlock's favorite color, which soothed him. John's bad room had only one memory and it was when Sherlock had jumped and left him behind for two years. His good room was filled so full that he had to expand it, so that John's room suddenly became a dining hall. Mary's room's were still slightly comforting, except for the splash of blood across the wall in her bad room. Still he was unaware as in the real world tears poured down his face as he faced that bad memory and tried to lock it safely away. He missed more screaming and the threat to have them all removed by Mycroft if they didn't leave Sherlock alone. That John had faith that he would come back to them he just needed time, that he didn't care if it had been over a week.

He moved on to his parents room, there was no good room for them, just two bad rooms painted neon green and pink the two colors that hurt his eyes, hurt his mind and caused him to feel anxious and insecure much as his parents did in real life. He was unaware that he curled tightly against John sobbing as he built these rooms, as the man held him tight whispering to him. He built Lestrade's room, his bad was once again unrelated to the man per-say but due to the withdrawals he'd gone through as the man helped him through the tears, sweat, and anger. His good room was filled with cases but prominent was the man's welcome when he returned from his two year hiatus. The basement still contained the padded room that contained all his memories of Moriarty old and new. The rest of the rooms were filled with all his knowledge, from school, life and otherwise. As he filled the very last room (with things about the solar system although he wasn't quite sure why) he breathed deeply and his eyes fluttered open.

Gazing around blinking in the light he found himself leaning against John's chest. The man was dozing his face tight with anxiety. Glancing around he noticed the rest of the apartment was empty. And he was very hungry. Slipping from his daddy's lap, he hugged Hamish close while padding into the kitchen yawning. He quietly pushed a kitchen chair up to the counter and climbed up opening the cupboards. He smiled brightly when he found what he was looking for. Grasping the box he climbed down and pushed the chair back in its place.

Sneaking back into the living room, he went carefully over to his chair and flicked the tv on low searching until he found Doctor Who.

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John shifted and realized something was different immediately. Snapping his eyes open, he was standing before he had focused. He heard the tv and a small giggle and glanced over at the chairs. What he saw warmed his heart. Sherlock sat curled in his chair, Hamish in one hand a chocolate biscuit in another giggling away at the tenth doctor during one of his antics.

"Ahem." He said quietly not wanting to startle the boy. Sherlock looked around and smiled brightly.

"DADDY!" He hopped up and ran across the room jumping at John who caught him and lifted him, ignoring the twinge in his shoulder in the excitement that the boy was back.

"I was worried about you!" He said hugging the boy tight.

Sherlock pulled back and looked at him seriously, his nose wrinkled as he scrunched his eyes.

"The memories from now and before when I was big were overwhelming. I had tho figure outh how tho build my mind palace and sthore them away so they didn'th overwhelm me. I had tho remember whath you thold me and look ath adulth me's memories." Then he looked around puzzled. "How long was I gone?" John saw the surprise in his eyes as he felt his own tears coming.

"Jesus Sherlock, three weeks. We found you and you were screaming in that that closet. I pulled you out, and that was it nothing from you for three weeks." He felt the sob hiccup out of him and he pulled the boy tight, smiling through his tears as the boy hugged him tightly back. Then what the boy said kind of rewound in his mind, and turning he sat them both down on the couch.

"You remember being an adult."Sherlock nodded. John fumbled with his words for a moment before leaning back laughing a bit. "Only you could go through having two sets of memorys and not completely lose it."

Sherlock put his nose in the air. "Mind Palace." He said snootily before giggling.

"Watch it mate!" John leaned forward wiggling his fingers threateningly.

"No daddy!" Sherlock gasped trying half heartedly to escape.

"No one can escape the tickle monster!" He tackled the boy tickling wherever he could reach, the high pitched laughter music to his ears after weeks of nothing. They battled each other back and forth missing Mary, and Lestrade as they walked in and stared unable to comprehend what they were seeing.

Sherlock, face crinkled in laughter looked up.

"Mummy!" He yelled hopping up and running over to hug her. She hugged him back in surprise, looking over at her husband in amazement.

"Mind Palace." He said simply understanding dawning on the other two adults.

Later Sherlock would explain how their memories were stored, there would be crying from Mary as Sherlock asked quietly why she had done it and she would fumble with her answer.

"I guess all I can say is while I wanted your friendship with John to continue because you make each other so happy, I wasn't willing to lose my relationship to him. As far as I saw when you caught me was that you had the info to ruin it for me. There's no excuse I just hope you can forgive me."

Sherlock had walked over and placed a hand on her face. "My adult self never blamed you and your my mommy now." He smiled brightly at her. She teared up again and hugged him close, motioning to John who joined their hug pile. Glad that things were going back to normal.

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SO another fluffy chapter next, I think Sherlock's going to learn about the tooth fairy. R&amp;R.


	20. Chapter 20

DO NOT OWN! As promised some fluff involving the tooth fairy.

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For the most part things had gone back to normal. More often than not Sherlock found his way into their bed during the night, but he woke himself and immediately fell back to sleep once cuddled up against one of them. He still tended to flinch if Mary moved towards him quickly but he was just as cheerful and happy with her as he had been before his memories. John noticed that now that his Mind Palace was built, the boy fell back into a lot of habits his adult self had. He would sink into the prayer position when thinking or storing facts away, often not resurfacing for hours until John finally had to poke him and remind him to eat. While the child in Sherlock who wanted to please John and whose body enjoyed regular meals was ok with this, the adult memories that only remembered starving and not feeling hunger anymore wasn't so pleased. John was patient with him, and so far they hadn't had to put him in the corner as he worked himself through the situation.

So it was with a bit of shock one morning when John bustling around the kitchen happened to drop a large container of coffee on his toe. Swearing he bounced around injured foot in one hand. He had thought he was alone in the kitchen until a little giggle reached his ear. Turning to tease the boy a bit his voice cut out as he stared for a moment. Sherlock stood giggling, teeth showing. Well the teeth that he had. HIs front tooth was missing. John stared at the boy and couldn't help but feel the emotions swirling in him. Finally ignoring his toe he swooped down and picked Sherlock up twirling him and hugging him, as the boy giggled a bit but looked at the man as if he was sure he'd gone bad.

"Can't help it, your just so darn adorable with your missing tooth."

"Did you have your coffee yeth daddy?" Sherlock asked doubtfully, his little speech inpediment growing now that the tooth was missing. John felt a squee coming on at the very sound of it, but comporting himself like the adult MALE he was rather than a rabid fan girl, he simply cleared his throat and hugged the boy once more.

"Yes I did, someday your going to have to accept that we think your cute, and adorable and all the other gushy names that we call you." He saw Sherlock's mouth open to speak. "We're right your biologicals were wrong, can't use that argument." Sherlock's mouth snapped closed audibly before he simply shook his head smiling again.

John deciding he'd mortified the seven and a half year old enough for one morning, placed him in his chair before setting about making a bowl of cereal for him. They'd decided to fatten him up some to feed him sugary cereals every once in a while in the morning. Sherlock took to it with gusto, his favorite so far being Fruity Pebbles.

"So where is the tooth?" John asked curiously as he placed two bowls of cereal on the table. Mary was at work, so he'd let himself splurge a little as well.

Sherlock had a big mouthful of cereal already in his mouth so he chewed and swallowed a little dribble of milk running down his chin before responding.

"Uh I think I puth ith on my bureau. I'll throw ith away lather." He said dismissing it.

John looked at him bug eyed until after a moment the boy couldn't ignore him and finally looked up cocking his head.

"Why would you throw it away?"

"Cuz I have no use for ith?" He blinked back, the twinkle in his eye was definitely an adult Sherlock twinkle.

"Well if you want the toothfairy to bring you money, you have a use for it."

"The thooth fairy?" Sherlock's voice was properly scandalized as if he couldn't believe that John believed that he believed in such a thing.

"Of course silly."

"Never had her visith before." He added silently daring John to argue with that one.

"Well she can't come in the house if the parents don't want her there now can she?"

"Uhuh". Sherlock continued to look dubious but John knew that the child part of him was perking up a bit as he continued to talk.

"Look put it under your pillow tonight. If there's money under it tomorrow I was right, if not you were and you can throw the tooth away if you like. What's it going to hurt to try?" He winced knowing Sherlock had tried a lot of things in his younger years that had end up hurting him before he'd shut himself off from the world. But apparently his trust for John was solid because he simply nodded his head in agreement, and went back to his cereal. John was almost sure he looked excited.

The rest of the day passed peacefully and John was sure that they were reaching a point when he could start leaving the flat and weaning Sherlock away from him again. Whistling through dinner, excited for the next morning he kept an eye out on Sherlock who had been working on a mysterious project all day and refused to tell John or Mary about it.

Later John made sure to give Sherlock a glass of warm milk, it ensured that he fell into a deep sleep and stayed there...unless he had a nightmare. Putting him to bed, there was the waiting game. Putting the telly on he vegged out for a couple hours, deciding now would be the best time to try before nightmares could hit him and while the warm milk still kept him asleep.

Sneaking in, he stepped carefully around the area's he knew that creaked. Sherlock was snoring peacefully away. John slid a hand under the pillow feeling around. He was surprised when his hand clasped some paper. Pulling it out he realized it was an envelope. Inside he found a piece of paper and a tiny tooth. Taking both, he slipped the money into the envelope and pressed it back under the pillow and slid back out of the room.

He immediately beckoned Mary and went upstairs shutting lights off as he went. It was near their bedtime anyway and he didn't want Sherlock to walk out and see them with his tooth fairy stuff. Settling in bed, Mary curled up beside him and they opened the note.

\- Dear Miss Toothfairy, I did some research on you today and I found out that you use our teeth to help form new baby teeth for other children. I apologize that you aren't going to get all of my teeth. I lost a few at my old house and my parents did not want you to come there. I hope this one tooth and the rest that I have can still help you. You don't even have to leave money if you don't want too.

Yours,

Sherlock Holmes-

Tears pricked in their eyes, so that's what he'd been doing all day. Researching the tooth fairy, John shook his head he really should have known. Deciding to risk one more visit he wrote out a quick reply and snuck down. He successfully placed that under the pillow as well before slipping silently back up to bed.

John knew no more until he rolled over and bumped into a small body pressed up against him. Blinking his eyes open, he looked down and smiled. It was morning and Sherlock was reclined between himself and Mary, his face had a small smile as he read a piece of paper in his hand.

"Good morning love." John said quietly pulling him into a short cuddle. "What do you have there?"

Sherlock looked up at him with a wide grin, and surprised eyes.

"You were righth daddy! The thooth fairy came. And she wasn'th mad thath I couldn'th give her all my theeth! See I lefth her a nothe and she lefth one for me." John thought silently of his lockbox in the closet were the note and tooth sat.

"Oh really? Well what does she say?" Sherlock passed the note to him.

My dearest Sherlock,

A little secret for you, I have all your teeth. When your parents brought them out of the house I collected them. You have precious teeth that can only go to other very precious children. I owe you back pay for those teeth so I gave you a little extra tonight, and I may give you a little extra next time. Be happy in your new home, your new Mummy and Daddy love you very much.

Love,

The Tooth Fairy-

"Well isn't that nice?" John said smiling softly as he passed the letter to a now awake Mary. "So how much did you get?"

"FIfthy Quid! I musth have very very special theeth!" John was thinking the exact same thing as he mentally groaned, he'd grabbed the wrong bills. He shot a look at the snickering Mary before shrugging. Sherlock was definitely worth it.

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Hope that was ok. Next one I think I'm going to have Lestrade and Donovan babysit at the station. R&amp;R


	21. Chapter 21

DO NOT OWN! "Mad-World-27 gave me a good idea for the direction of this chapter. So without further ado, Sherlock's shenanigans at the yard.

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John and Mary had been frantic. Mrs Hudson had been called away for some family business and it had taken a lot of convincing for her to go. John had just started back at work and really didn't want to push it with taking more time off. They couldn't spare Mary because it was getting into cold season and nurses were far and few in between as it was.

This was how Lestrade found the three of them, John frantically looking through his address book calling out names, most of which Mary denied immediately. They were both overprotective of the boy from the beginning but after the Moriarty situation it had turned into an obsession. Sherlock, meanwhile, was sitting smiling a bit as if watching a tennis match. He was the first to catch sight of Lestrade. While he'd always liked the man after the initial meeting, he'd warmed up to him after his adventure with Ron and then completely accepted him after his time with Moriarty. The boy jumped up excitedly.

"Uncle dethecthive!" He ran around and hugged Lestrade around the knees smiling up at him delightedly. Lestrade secretly adored that the boy called him uncle detective, when Donovan had first heard it and tried to poke fun he'd shot her down immediately.

"Hello mate." He lifted the boy and placed him on his hip. "What's going on here?"

"Their thrying tho find someone tho wathch me thomorrow because grandmum isn'th here." They weren't sure how long the woman would be gone, she hadn't thought more than a day so they were taking it one day at a time. Finally John, getting to the last of his address book looked up at Lestrade and it was like the lightbulb went on.

"Well how about Lestrade?" He said turning to Mary. "There isn't anyone safer than an officer." Mary looked like she could argue that point but simply nodded instead.

"Alright if he agree's I do."

"I geth tho spend the day ath Scothland Yard!" Sherlock perked up and hugged Lestrade around the neck. "Please Please PLEASE! Uncle Dethecthive!"

Lestrade knew he was beaten before the fight even started. He'd had a hard enough time attempting to say no to adult Sherlock, who in the end always got what he wanted. It was downright impossible with those wide pleading eyes.

"Yes alright. I will come and collect you at seven." Sherlock nodded pleased before squirming to be released. Lestrade obliged and watched as the boy scampered to his corner, settling down and beginning to read to Hamish who was even more a part of him after the kidnapping. Until now none of the adults thought that was possible.

"Thanks Greg." John said relieved clapping the man on the back as Mary gave him a quick hug and mentioned something about getting tea.

"So what can we do for you?" He said offering Sherlock's chair to the man as he sat in his own. Lestrade stared blankly at him before realizing he was the one that had stopped by.

"Ah I just came to check and see how things were." He nodded his head in Sherlock's direction.

"Everything is going well. He still has moments if the memories try to overwhelm him but his Mind Palace seems to be just as good as his adult one." John looked lovingly over at the child who seemed to notice and looked up smiling and showing the gap in his teeth, before turning back to teaching chemistry to his bee.

The adults sat down to have tea chatting about this and that, while their attention was always on the small curly haired boy.

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The next morning Lestrade was not surprised to see that Sherlock was standing, in one of his suits he'd insisted on getting, Hamish in hand on the stoop. John stood with him, looking just a little bit more tired than the bouncing child next to him.

Lestrade got out to greet John as Sherlock came barreling at him hugging him about the knees. Patting the boys head he shook hands with John, and assured him everything would be fine before helping Sherlock into the back seat and weaving his way through morning traffic to work.

Arriving he parked and led Sherlock around the corner to the station. He watched as the boys face widened in excitement as he glimpsed the building for the first time since being turned.

"I can'th waith. I can help you solve cases and sthare the criminals down when you questhion them." Lestrade made a mental note to find a mild cold case for the boy to try and solve. Leading him in, they got several curious stares but one look from Lestrade had everyone scurrying back to work. He reached his office and turned to wave to Donovan who was seated at her desk.

She nodded to him and then smiled brightly as she saw the child next to him.

"Hello darling." She said grabbing the boys attention who smiled back and went to stand at her knees. His adult memories warred with his child ones of Donovan so he wasn't as open with her, but he liked her.

"Hello Miss Donovan." He said quietly. "How are you?"

"I'm quite well, thank you." Suddenly her face brightened even more. "You go ahead with Lestrade, I have to get something."

He eyed her suspiciously before nodding and following Lestrade into his office. Immediately the man got him settled on a couch he had in the room and handed him a criminal textbook to read.

"I need to grab a couple of files, you stay here and I'll be right back." Sherlock nodded already reading aloud to Hamish who had been in his suit pocket and now placed in his lap. Wandering down the hall he greeted people as he passed, making it clear he was not up for idle conversation. Letting himself into the file room, he grabbed the one needed for himself before turning to the cold cases. He found one where someone was attacked, it wasn't particularily gruesome, the person had been fine but a priceless antique was stolen.

Letting himself in the office he was mildly surprised to see Donovan with Sherlock in her lap, the two of them giggling together. Sherlock looked up and held up a leather case in his hand.

"Look! Miss Donovan goth me my very own badge!" Lestrade went over and took a look seeing one of the badges they had for children who were forced to the pricinct because of things going along with their family.

"Very nice." He complimented handing it back. "I got you a case to look at if you like." Sherlock perked up even more and giving Sally a half hug he slid off her lap and took the file immediately opening it and beginning to read. Smiling Sally nodded at her boss and slipped out of the room. Most of the morning went on like this, Sherlock solved the case rather quickly to Lestrade's amazement and went back to his criminal book as Lestrade looked through his own file. He was just considering going and getting another case for the boy to look at when Donovan raced through his office.

"Crime scene downtown. It's one of the Royal advisors."

"Bollocks." Lestrade said looking at Sherlock. It was no use, he'd have to bring him along. "Alright Sherlock we need to go." The boy looked up excitedly, placing the book aside and tucking Hamish back in his pocket. He grabbed Lestrades hand and ran with him and Donovan down the hall and out to the car.

It took less than ten minutes for Lestrade to screech sirens blaring into the park where the body was found. Glancing out and noticing all the other beat cops milling about he turned to Sherlock.

"Ok we'll be back in a bit, if you need anything ask one of them." He gestured to the cops before jumping out of the car with his sergeant already in police mode.

Sherlock sat back a little miffed that he was being left behind. He shifted and looked in the front of the seat. He noticed Lestrade's badge laying there and grinned in delight. He had a reason to go out and look at the scene himself. Technically Lestrade never said he couldn't. Grabbing the ID he slid out of the car. Glancing around, he snuck down the side of the car. He waited for the officer who blocked his way under the tape to turn and march down the line. Sure he was far enough away, Sherlock sprinted ducking under the tape and took off down the hill towards the few people hanging about. He stopped next to a tree several feet from the crime scene and looked at it. There were strange marks. He studied it intently, they almost looked like. His eyes widened when he realized that they were exactly what he thought they were. Looking at the base of the tree he saw scraps of bark.

"Lesthrade!" He yelled! He turned deciding he should probably run to meet the detective who was turned and coming towards him concerned. The man began to run and yell at the boy who heard a thump behind him. He turned getting a glimpse of the man who was hiding in the tree before the man lifted him holding him tight about the stomach. Sherlock coughed and wiggled having a hard time breathing. Miraculously the man loosened a bit and he gulped in deep breathes. He felt something metal against his head. A gun. His eyes widened and he tried to calm himself and focus on a way to get out of this mess, as Lestrade and Donovan came running towards them.

"Stay right there!" The man yelled when they were a few feet away. They took a couple more steps until the man cocked the gun to the boys head.

"Look man, you don't want to do this. He's just a kid, you don't want to make it worse on yourself."

"I think -I'm the one making the demands here." The man said, although he shifted his grip so that Sherlock was more settled on his hip. He was shaking a bit and he squeezed the boys arm a bit. Sherlock looked him up and down confused before smiling.

"You didn'th kill thath man. You saw the man thath did. You went tho thry and save him, I can see by the sthains on your panths, you thried to revive him. You picked up the gun so the children around here wouldn'th grab ith while you wenth tho call for help. But you saw the police already here and panicked so you climbed the three. YOu have a child of your own you were on the way tho see. That's how you know how to hold me without hurthing me and why you have the theddy bear in your pocketh ." He nodded to the inside of the mans jacket were he saw that Lestrade and Donovan finally saw the small stuffed figure poking out.

"Jesus." Lestrade breathed in relief shaking his head in amazement at the boy who patted the man on the head and slid down from his grasp. The man looked blankly at the seven year old that had read him so easily before placing the gun on the ground. Out of the corner of his eye Sherlock saw Lestrade come towards them grabbing the cuffs at his belt. He stood in front of the man with his arms spread.

"Don'th! He didn'th hurth me and he was scared. YOu would be thoo if you found your lover dead in the park." Lestrade froze looking from the boy to the man who had flushed red even as he looked on more amazed.

"Alright you win." Lestrade said grinning a bit and shaking his head at the extraordinary boy in front of him. Nothing seemed to bring him down, and he was just as fluent in the work now as he was when he was older. Beckoning the man and boy he walked up the hill towards his car. As he passed them, he watched Sherlock shift a little with indecision before grasping the man's hand and leading him after the Inspector Detective.

WHen they got back Lestrade brought the man and boy into his office and between the two of them, a picture was formed of the crime. THe man in the park had collapsed, later the report would show he had been shot from behind. The man, Joe hadn't seen who had shot him having just arrived at the park and finding him laying on the ground. Sherlock was sure it was a hired hit, probably from the man's ex lover based on the gun and the fact it had a silencer on it. Lestrade sent Donovan out to collect the ex boyfriend. The man cracked without a lot of pressure when a picture of the dead man was shown to him. It had been a crime of passion but one he regretted after realizing it meant he'd never get his lover back again.

Joe shook Lestrade's hand and then knelt down to Sherlock's level.

"Thanks mate." He said sincerely ruffling the boys hair.

"S'ok.' Sherlock said shyly. "Go see your daughther." He added pushing the man a bit. Laughing Joe stood ruffling his hair once more before disappearing out into the precinct.

Glancing at the clock Lestrade realized it was well after the time he should have returned Sherlock home. Reaching down he picked the boy up and brought him through the building and out to his car.

Traffic was murder, and as they were sitting waiting for a light Lestrade finally decided to speak.

"You're a hero you know that kiddo?" He said.

A sleepy voice came from the back. "There's only one hero n thath's John." Lestrade beamed at the worship coming from the boy.

Forty five minutes later and Lestrade was handing over the sleeping Sherlock to a much relieved John. He waited in the living room as John settled the boy in his room for a clearly much needed nap coming back out to join the detective and his wife.

"I suspect he was excited and didn't get much sleep last night." John confessed settling down. "What were you boys up to today?"

"Oh you know the usual, solving crimes, playing hero." He settled in and told them about Sherlock's day. There was much gasping and gulping but to their credit they didn't snap at Lestrade for bringing the boy to the crime scene, knowing that if Sherlock wanted to go he'd have found a way anyway.

Then he told John, the boys statement on the way home and watched as John stared lovingly down the hall to where his boy lay sound asleep.

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Next one is going to be Sherlock playing pirates. R&amp;R!


	22. Chapter 22

DO NOT OWN! Some more great ideas from madworld27 and W cubed:D. Pirate Sherlock gets himself in a bit of a pickle.

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John's initial reaction when his parents called to invite the three of them out to their home in the country was one of unease. His parents and he had formed a fissure long ago over Harry. They said it was just a phase, he said she needed help. Well now he had all the proof he needed after her attack on Sherlock, but he was almost sure his parents wanted him to come and scold him for kicking her from his life. They insisted that they just wanted to meet the boy and woman that had stolen their sons heart. What finally put his decision over to one side was when Sherlock, who had been playing pirates non stop for over a week, jumped into the tub fully clothed shouting about walking the plank. There was a mess of water everywhere while the boy calmly splashed around with his "parrot" Hamish singing various buccaneer songs.

Sighing deeply he'd told Mary of the weekend plans, she had of course been delighted to finally meet his parents, still with heavy unease, he called his parents and agreed. If nothing else Sherlock would be able to go outside with his pirate play and not destroy the flat with all his energy. John was pleased of course, that Sherlock was finally acting like the child he always should have been but it had been rough cooped up with the hyper seven year old in such a small flat. They didn't dare take him out into London yet. They saw Moriarty shot and dead but then again SHerlock had seen him shoot himself and die and then look how that turned out. Mycroft was using every source available to work out if it was actually the madman who died. Until that point Sherlock was kept under tight watch.

The day they left found Sherlock bouncing up and down in the back of Mary's car singing "A Pirate's Life For Me" he was wearing one of his favorite suits but he had a bandana on his head and an eyepatch over one eye. He held Hamish on his shoulder and began to talk to him, once in a while yelling at the adults in the front about how they would pay for kidnapping the pirate king. John couldn't help but smile at him from the rearview mirror every once in a while. Trust Sherlock to lighten the mood of what would normally be a tense ride for John.

When they arrived John wasn't sure what to expect, but the sight of his father looking so very fragile as he followed his mother out to great them, certainly wasn't it. The two of them hugged him tight whispering about how much they missed him and how sorry they were the estrangement had gone on so long. They turned their attention to Mary and lavished attention about how beautiful she was and how glad they were that he had found someone. Finally his father, Ed, noticed Sherlock in pirate gettup, hiding behind John's knee's Hamish held tightly in his hand. He knelt down pushing back a wince that John did notice, to be at the boys level.

"Hello there, you must be Sherlock." He waited and was rewarded with a tiny nod from the child." I see you like pirates, I do as well. There a few pirate tales I could tell you about the pond out back of our house." John looked down and watched as Sherlock's eyes lit up. He even stepped out from behind his fathers legs to look fully at the other man in awe.

"Yes please!" He whispered. Ed held out his hand and Sherlock took it happily, following the older man up and into the house as he began to talk. The other three laughed as John grabbed their luggage and they followed the pair inside. Placing the bags in their rooms, he wandered back downstairs. Listening he realized that his mother and Mary were talking in the kitchen. Deciding to let them bond, he went to search out the other men in the house. He found them in his fathers study. Sherlock was perched on his knee and looking up in awe as he was told a story.

"So you see, that pond back there is very deep because it used to be the center of a lake. Pirates used it to get from the city down yonder up here with their booty. They say that if you stand on the pier out there you can ask the ghost of the pirate captain Riley where the treasure is buried. And if he finds you worthy he'll whisper back the location. It is said it is buried somewhere on these grounds but it can't be found unless the pirate captain speaks to you."

Sherlock's eyes glittered with excitement. "Can we go thalk tho him?" He asked bouncing a bit. John watched his father grimace a bit as the boy bounced but his smile came back immediately.

"I think we can manage that sometime over the weekend." He poked the child on his nose. "Now I believe your grandmother made cookies just for you, so why don't you run along to the kitchen while I speak with your father."

"Ok!" Sherlock hesitated a moment before wrapping his arms around the man and adding. "Grandpa." He slid of the mans lap, swaggered over to John and hugged him about the knees before scampering off in search of cookies.

John sat in a chair opposite his father, and they sat in a tense silence for a moment.

"Dad what's wrong? What is the real reason you called us here for?" He asked voice tight with an indescribable emotion.

Ed sighed glancing at his son out of the corner of his eye. "We really did want to make amends with you son. Your sis- Harriet came and told us what she had done to that poor boy. We were- it finally opened our eyes to what you had been telling us all along. We've got her into rehab." He added.

"Dad." John said shortly knowing his father was rambling to avoid something.

"I wanted to clear things with you anyway son. I- bugger how do I say this? I was diagnosed with prostate cancer. Its advanced and - ugh well I won't be here much longer."

"What did they give you." JOhn leaned forward slipping into doctor mode so he could avoid upset son mode for the moment.

"Three months." His father said glancing at him, pleadingly. "I just want us to have a relationship again, if only for a little while."

John swore under his breath, his control teetering. Before everything with Harry he and his father had been close. Fishing together, swimming, stories, building things. THe dream father son pairing. How would he handle this? He looked over at his father and the years of estrangement melted away, they didn't matter anymore. He felt himself stand and drape himself over his father, he felt the tears prick at his eyes as he held him tightly. He sobbed into his shoulder for a long time, and continued to cling to the man, who clung back, long after. They were content to hold each other until they heard patter of feet coming towards the room. John, afraid it was Sherlock, stepped back and carefully cleaned his face. His dad smiled a bit before cleaning his own.

Sherlock did enter the room holding a plate of cookies, followed by Mary and John's mom Victoria who each carried a tray with tea things on it.

"Daddy! Grandma made cookies for us! Their really good, you should try one." John nearly lost it again as he looked down at the boys bright smile, cookie in hand reaching towards him. Holding it together barely he accepted the cookie, ruffled the boys hair and made extreme pleased noises as he ate the cookie to get the boy to smile. It was the last smile any of them would have for most of the weekend.

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Friday was spent catching up, Saturday they sent Sherlock out to play while the four adults talked. It was a rough time with lots of crying and hugging. John wanted them to stay and help care for them. Ed wanted them to go back to the city because he wouldn't be responsible for them missing work. There was a bit of a tug of war but finally they decided to help care for the man they would go home during the week and return on weekends. This gave Sherlock a chance to be in the country and John could have time with his father. The news plagued all of them however and Sherlock was clearly confused by all of their subdued moods whenever he was around them.

The boys way of trying to cheer them up was to pester them about the treasure. By Sunday morning, John, whose nerves were frazzled as his father had been worn out Saturday and hadn't left the bed since, snapped.

"Sherlock! We are busy, we don't have time for any games." He turned back to the tea he was making. It took him a moment to realize what exactly he had just done. He turned back around but SHerlock was already gone. Sighing, he sat at the table and placed his face in his hands.

'Brilliant Watson, the kid actually acts like a kid and you berate him for it.' He thought. 'Deciding to let the boy cool off for a moment, he turned to finish the tea.'

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Sherlock felt the tears roll down his cheeks. His daddy had yelled at him, but why? What had he done? He was trying to make him feel better. His grandpa had promised to take him to talk to Captain Riley but he became ill. It wasn't fair. The sadness was replaced by anger. FINE! If his father wanted nothing to do with it, he'd do it himself.

Sherlock walked down through the back yard winding his way to the clear silent pond. He climbed onto the pier and walked to the end which was somewhere in the very center. He couldn't believe this was a pond, it was huge! But remembering the story of how it used to be a lake he decided that it made sense.

"Capthain Riley?" He asked the air. "I'm here tho find your threasure. I"m Capthain Sherlock!" Nothing...rats. Looking around he decided maybe he had to prove he was a pirate. He settled Hamish down carefully on the pier before pulling his sword out. He began to dance around the pier sliding a little on the wetness of the wood. He parried and turned practicing his moves. He didn't notice as he neared the edge of the pier, he didn't notice the bit of green slime on the end. He didnt notice until he was slipping and falling and at that moment he remembered that he didnt' know how to swim. Oh sure his adult self knew how but right now in the cold of the water and the fear of falling those memories were locked away. He was a seven year old flailing in deep water and he didn't know how to swim.

"Daddy!" He sputtered as water got in his mouth, he felt himself sinking. His head broke the surface once more. "DADDY!" He screeched coughing as he pulled water in his longs. He was tired he coughed again and sucked in more, his limbs went laden and he felt himself sinking.

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John would later wonder if someone was watching over them. He had just stepped outside when he saw Sherlock slip and fall into the pond. His heart seized, and he began to run. The pond was so far from the back door. He heard the boy scream for him, and tried to push himself harder.

"SHERLOCK I"M COMING! SHERLOCK!" He yelled as he ran, he heard one more yell for him and then nothing. There was no splashing, gasping or yelling.

'Please oh please!' He thought to himself as he pushed himself as hard as he could. He heard yelling behind him but ignored it as he ran down the end of the pier and dove in.

The water was shockingly cold and it was dim and dark, he swam down reaching and reaching. He could hold his breath for a long time but after running and just diving in he felt his lungs begin to burn, he couldn't stop though Sherlock had already been in the water for far too long. He reached and prayed and reached. Suddenly he heard a voice in his ear and jumped.

"Left!" the voice said urgently, to surprised to argue he fumbled around to the left and felt the curly hair of the boy, reaching further he grabbed the boys collar and pulled, he pushed them towards the surface as fast as he could his lungs beyond burning now. He just needed air and if he needed air that meant Sherlock had already needed air, he had to get him out and get him air.

Finally finally he broke surface and took huge breaths as he tugged the boy and rolled him up onto the pier. He was vaguely aware of Mary, his mother and even his father standing nearby but he ignored them pulling himself up onto the pier after the boy. He listened, the boy wasn't breathing, he began CPR breathing in to expand the boys lungs and pushing to get the water to come out.

"Come on Sherlock, don't do this to me. I'll play any game you want whenever just don't do this." Nothing, he tried it again counting in his head. "Please PLEASE Sherlock wake up!" His voice was tear filled and he heard Mary on the phone with 999 and a sob come from his mother. Ignoring them he kept pushing. Finally he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"John...I think...I think you should stop." It was his father, he whipped the mans hand off his shoulder.

"I can't give up on him, he can't go like this!" John said tears blurring his vision as he looked down at the pale still boy. "He's just started being what he always should have been this can't happen, not now." He sat back sobbing he felt his fathers steady hand return. He heard Mary, off the phone now sobbing, he blinked over dully and saw she was enveloped in his mothers arms. He curled in on himself, the pain in his chest splitting him in half. Not again, he couldn't lose him not again. He wouldn't survive it this time he knew he wouldn't. His breath gasped out of him as the sobs ripped through him. He almost missed the cough. The second time he didn't. He looked up not daring to hope.

But it was true Sherlock Holmes, was coughing, he quickly turned him on his side and watched as water poured out of his mouth as he coughed and breathed and groaned. Sherlock Holmes had to be a cat, that was all there was too it, this was the fourth time he nearly lost him, the second time he'd actually stopped breathing but he had come back. Sherlock rolled wincing until his head was in John's lap. He looked up and tried to reach to wipe away John's tears but his arm was leaden and he felt himself being pulled back into unconsciousness.

"Tol' you I'd always be there for you." He slurred before slipping into blissful blackness. John kept his hand on his pulse to be sure he was still breathing but he laughed through the tears as the boy spoke. Only Sherlock Holmes would fight against death twice for his friends. And people said he didn't have a heart. He snorted as he held the boy close listening for the sirens as they came closer and closer.

Sherlock was whisked away to the hospital, John riding with him. The rest followed in the car. The doctors where baffled, they said given what they were told the boy should not have made it. But it looked as though he had a guardian angel. He was sitting up in bed pouting because he had to stay overnight for observation. They said, that he shouldn't be awake really, especially not sitting up and demanding to go home. It was a miracle, they said and that the Watson's should treasure it. John didn't bother to say he already treasured and cherished him, he didn't say that htis had happened before so in Sherlock's world this wasn't unusual at all. He simply smiled and nodded hugging his boy close. He apologized for his harsh words Sherlock simply smiled and cuddled against him as he sat on the side of his bed. The two of them watched Doctor Who late into the night, John thanking every deity he could think of that he still had his son and best friend with him.

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Hope this is ok. Next chapter he finds the treasure. Unless my favorite reviewers give me a better idea :D! Thanks again to madworld27 and W cubed can't wait for any more ideas you may have! R&amp;R


	23. Chapter 23

DO NOT OWN! Sherlock does the smackdown on an authority figure and finds the treasure. John gets a little spooked ;).

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Sherlock remained in the hospital overnight. There were several questions as to why such a small boy had been near the pond by himself when he didn't know how to swim. The judging looks got more intense when John and Mary had to admit they didn't know the child couldn't swim. John tried to contact Mycroft knowing Social Services was inevitable if he didn't step in. Unfortunately he was apparently out of the country and while the secretary promised to reach him when learning it was about his brother, they had yet to be contacted by him.

It was Monday and the two adults were sitting with a fidgety Sherlock in between them. They had tried to explain that someone was going to come talk to him and everything would be ok. He hadn't said anything, his eyes going stony his face pinched. They were unsure what the facial expressions meant and he refused to tell them instead gripping their hands tightly in his.

It was Mrs. Hudson who let the Social Services agent in. The woman looked around, notepad in hand. Her face unreadable as she began to scribble notes on her pad. John stood and gently tugged his hand from Sherlock's who whimpered a bit before grabbing Mary's tighter. He strode over reaching a hand out to shake with the lady.

"I am John Watson, miss.." He waited she stared down her nose at his hand until finally he put it down. "Welcome, that's my wife Mary and of course that is SHerlock." He said pointing out the two them. She sniffed and seated herself in John's chair. Glancing at Mary who looked a tad angry, John shook his head slightly before going and seating himself next to Sherlock again.

"I need to speak to the boy alone." Her voice was shrill and annoyance was clear.

"Do you have a name before we do anything?" Mary blurted out, John could see the coldness sweeping across her face.

"Miss Mapple." She sniffed back. "Now leave."

John tried to stand but felt a small hand gripping him attempting to stop him. He looked down at Sherlock who was studying him wide eyed.

"It's only for a bit so this nic-uh well this lady can speak to you without our influences."

Sherlock shook his head ever so slightly. John sighed and hugged him tight before once again disentangling the small hand from his. He reached out to help Mary up. She placed a kiss on the pleading boys forehead before standing and glaring at Miss Mapple as they left the room. They sat on the stairs to be sure they could hear if Sherlock got too distressed but so they were out of the line of sight of the woman.

"So Sherock, tell me about living with the Watsons."

There was silence, John and Mary looked at each other in disgust that she couldn't even get the boys name correct. The minutes dragged on and there was a sigh from the woman.

"Look kid, I haven't got all day. Do you want to stay where your being hurt or not." John blinked and began to stand. This was just unprofessional, and he wasn't going to allow it any longer. Sherlock's high pitched voice stopped him.

"Whath is ith with you people? YOu can'th be bothered tho show up when I really need help because your being paid off. When I'm in the besth home anyone could ask for you sthick your rather large beak in." Sputtering from the woman which Sherlock talked right over. "You are burned outh and hathe this job. You were demothed from another governmenth job as punishmenth for being tho rough with your clienths. Glad tho see you've changed so much. You're a smoker buth haven'th had one yeth thoday suggesthing you don'th have them or...No you clearly have enough money going by the sthathe of your fancy clothes. You married rich then. Ah buth you have brusing on your arms. He's noth very nice then is he? He thook your cigaretthes away tho punish you and canceled your cards so you couldn'th buy more. I think MISS Mapple thath if anyone needs Social Services ith would be you. Buth no you would rather thake your bad mood and horrible home life outh on a child who is happy and loved where he is. John and Mary Wathson are the greathesth people thath you are every going tho meeth. They saved me from my biological parenths who hurth me and locked me away when you people wouldn'th." At this point his voice was raising. "Now geth outh!" John marched into the living room. Sherlock was standing on the coffee table, chest heaving. His face could only be described as adult in that moment. He had accessed adult memories to tell the woman off. Miss Mapple was seated her eyes wide and clearly unsure whether to be amazed or angry.

"You heard him, get out." John looked over as Mary spoke. He didnt' bother to stop her and instead marched up to Sherlock and picked him and Hamish up cuddling the shaking boy close. "If you have any problems with us in the future you may contact Mycroft Holmes." The woman's eyes went wide. "Ah yes I see you know the name, well he placed this boy in our care. So if you have an issue with that you take it up with him." She got right in the woman's face who flinched and backed away. "Now leave." She hissed.

Miss Mapple jumped up and sent one last glare to Sherlock who stuck his tongue out at her, before disappearing down the stairs and out of the flat. They didn't hear from Social Services again about the pond.

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Ed laughed uproarously as he was told of Sherlock's battle with the service woman. The boy who was seated on his lap smiled widely as the man ruffled his hair.

"Just bloody brilliant kiddo."

"Ed! Do not swear in front of the child!" His wife scolded as she sipped at her cup of tea. It was the following Saturday and as promised the Watson's returned to visit them and to help out as much as they could.

"Psh he knows not to say it, don't you mate?" Sherlock nodded vigorously then adjusted his eye patch. "Ah yes I think its time to find the treasure don't you?"

SHerlock beamed up at him . "Yes please grandpa!"

Laughing Ed got up and took the boy by the hand. "Any one else like to join us." John stood as Mary and Victoria shook their heads.

"We have other plans." Victoria said her eyes twinkling. "You boys go."

The three of them walked through the house and out the back door before Ed stopped a moment and turned to his son.

"Their planning something...I don't know if I like that." His eyes twinkled as he said it.

"Well there's no stopping them Da so you might as well just move on." He unconsciously began to use his childhood name for his father.

"Indeed." The other man said looking down at a barely patient Sherlock. "Alright then Matey, lets go see what the pirate has to say."

They began to walk, but John's mind began to run with what his father just said. He hadn't thought about it since that day, but the voice? Who had helped him locate Sherlock. THere couldn't really be a ghost could there?

Curiously he caught up to the other two as they went down to the pier. Sherlock had a white knuckle grip on Ed, as they walked onto the pier. His face was a bit pale, and John was about to suggest they wait, when an erie voice rose up over the water.

"Whyyy havee you comee?" Sherlock looked excitedly up at Ed who nudged him.

"We came tho see if we were worthy of your threasure." Ed had spent the night before guiding Sherlock through what he needed to say to appease the ghost.

"I aamm Captaiin Rileeey and I will judgee you now. Teell me are you brave and have strenght off hearrrt?" The voice echoed out across the area.

"I do. I have solved crimes at seven, helped a little girl recover from sickness." John blinked up at that one. "I love and care about my mummy and daddy." His heart melted at this statement. Ed winked at him as the ghostly voice responded.

"I havee judgedd your answers and read your heart as you spookee. You are a trully good persoon and worthyyy to find myyy treasurreee." The voice continued. "Froom the pierr take fifteeen stepps east turn a quarter right and takee twenttyyy more steppsss."

"Thank you Capthain Riley!" Sherlock chirped saluting the pond.

"Youu are welllcomme young onee. Remaaiiin good and trueee and you will goo farr." The voice faded away by the end.

"Grandpa, I don'th have a compass!" Sherlock said suddenly. The man knelt down carefully and pulled something from his pocket.

John saw an old fashioned round casing, leave designs along the cover. He smiled a bit knowing what it was was. Pleased that his father clearly though so highly of Sherlock.

"This is my compass, passed down to me from my grandfather. I want you to have it now. May it help you on all your pirate journeys." Sherlock stared down at the compass, up at Ed and finally at John. His lip was quivering and eyes bright with tears.

"I can'th...I"m noth acthuallhy." He looked pained.

Ed lifted his chin with his finger and looked deep into his watering eyes. "You are my grandson and I love you just as much as if you were born to John. Blood doesn't make you family. Love and care does. Don't you ever forget that."

Sherlock sniffled a bit before jumping forward and hugging the man tight about his neck.

"Thank you thank you." He mumbled into the mans shoulder.

"Always little Lock, always." He hugged the boy as calmed. Finally he pulled away and offered the compass again, this time Sherlock took it reverently.

Suddenly in Captain Sherlock mode, he carefully clicked open the device and studied it walking to the end of the pier, his other hand still clutching Ed's tightly until the reached the end of the pier. Then he gripped the compass tightly as he waited for the needle to slow.

"This way!" He stated turning left and walking fifteen steps."Ok...

whath's a quarther thurn?" He looked up at Ed expectantly. Ed smiled and stood facing east before pivoting his foot a bit. Sherlock stood next to him and began to count until the reached twenty steps. He looked up at the tree they had come too. Studying the trunk he saw a disturbance where the soil was soft. Grinning he knelt down and tucking the compass safely in his pocket next to Hamish he began to dig. After several moments in which Ed and John looked on, he dug out a little treasure chest.

Excitedly he opened it and gasped out loud. He looked up at the two adults. "How did he know?" John looked over curiously and smiled wide once more.

There inside was a framed photo of Sherlock, John and Mary all smiling and laughing together. Around the frame were the words, 'Your Treasure'. Underneath there was a handful of foiled gold chocolate coins.

"Thanks Captain Riley!" Sherlock shouted hugging the chest close. John glanced at his father needing to speak to him a moment.

"Hey love, why don't you go in and show mummy and grandma." He said gently.

"Ok!" The boy jumped up and hugged both men around the knee's quickly before running up to the house.

"How did you do it?"

"Do what?" Ed asked feigning surprise.

"The voice under water. I know you have speakers around the lake. Mum told me you used to do this for children all the time,host treasure hunts. But when Sherlock was under water, how did you know where to find him? And how was I able to hear it?"

At this Ed truly did look confused. "Son I'm not sure what your talking about. The only way you'd be able to hear underwater is if you had some sort of water proof device in your ear..."

John stared blankly at him, before looking down towards the pier. For just a moment he saw a flash of white. A man in an old fashioned sailor suit, his sword raised in salute before fading away to nothing.

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I wanted to be a Social Worker, but I took one class and decided I just couldn't. It seems as though they always go for the family's that are fine (in my experience I'm certainly not doubting that they have done good things) but then try to reconcile the families were the child really should be removed. I suppose this was my way of letting off frustration. Next chapter might be a funeral chapter, but I'm not sure. Input as always is greatly appreciated :D. Thanks again to madworld27! R&amp;R


	24. Chapter 24

DO NOT OWN! I hope this comes out like I hope it will. The funeral.

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It happened nearly a month early. John had been expecting it on some level, his father had made his peace with his family and taken his new grandson under his wing. There were no other reasons for him to hang on. John understood, his mother, and Mary understood as well. They were sad and felt his loss keenly but the knew that it was better than the man hanging on in pain, not knowing from one day to the next if he'd be stuck in bed unable to move as the pain engulfed him and he was grouchy and unable to recognize anyone. But, John thought looking down at the silent seven year old hugging Hamish at his feet, how do you tell that to a child?

They had gotten the news the previous weekend, in the middle of the night. John and Mary had jumped up and dressed, discussing whether they should bring the boy or not. They finally decided that it would be better for him to find out with them, than find out and stuck in London. They woke the boy gently, he blinked blearily up at them but he clearly read that something was wrong.

"Daddy?" He looked at him worriedly. "Whath's wrong?" John looked at him and his bright eyed worried look. He turned away gripping Sherlock's hand, a sob ripping through him unable to answer.

"Sherlock sweetie, your...well your grandfather went on to his next adventure." Mary said quietly, Sherlock's face screwed up in concentration.

"You mean he..." His voice broke off and he turned away to look once more at John. Sliding up he hugged John about the neck.

"I'm sorry Daddy." He mumbled quietly. It was the last thing he'd they'd heard him say since the whole situation started. John had hugged him back, and motioned Mary out of the room, she'd gone off to pack a few things for them. John helped the boy out of his pj's and pack some items for himself. Then holding him securely in his arms, being sure he had Hamish and his bag of clothes he followed Mary down the stairs. She had placed the suitcases neatly next to the door.

"I'll let Mrs Hudson know." She said quietly, stroking Sherlock's cheek as he stared blankly at her. John simply nodded and grasping a suitcase in his free hand he let them out into the cool night air and out to the car. Setting Sherlock in the back seat, he rent around to the trunk and placed his suitcase inside, adding Mary's when she dragged it down to him, slamming the door shut.

He stood in back next to her for a moment. He took a deep breath of air, feeling a couple of tears stream down his cheeks. He felt a hand on his arm. He glanced over at his wife who looked at him lovingly.

"We'll get through this." She placed a kiss on his temple. He squeezed her hand and sighed.

"I know we will, its him I"m worried about." They both looked through the back of the car at the boy sitting still staring straight ahead.

"We'll figure that out too." She said quietly.

It was famous last words. It had been a week and the boy said nothing. He wouldn't let John out of his sight, not even to go with Mary or Victoria. He played at his feet, sat in his lap, and snuck into their bed at night cuddling close to John. As far as they could tell he was sleeping only minimally and while he ate he mostly picked at his food. The boy often appeared to be lost in his thoughts, he was somber and sad but he hadn't cried yet. In one hand he always had Hamish clutched to him, in the other the compass Ed had given too him.

It was the day of the funeral, and Sherlock already suited up sat quietly at John's feet as he dressed himself up. Glancing worriedly down at the child as he did so. Why couldn't he catch a break? He'd experienced so much loss and pain in his life. John almost wished for a moment that Sherlock hadn't gotten to know his father. But he immediately retracted that thought. He knew the few weeks they'd known each other had been good for both Sherlock and Ed. For Sherlock because he understood that he could be apart of someones family and be loved unconditionally without blood tying you together. Ed because it gave him something fun to do with his last few weeks of life. John knew the man had gone happier, after his bonding with Sherlock. He just wished he could get the boy to see that.

"Are you two ready?" A voice came quietly from the door. John turned finishing with his tie and giving a halfhearted smile towards his mother.

"As we're going to be." He said, leaning down and lifting Sherlock to place him on his hip. He laid his curly hair against John's shoulder, hugging his items too him and staring blankly into John's chest. Victoria glanced worriedly from the boy to her son. He simply shrugged and followed her out of the room. They met Mary down at the car and loaded in. The trip was only about fifteen minutes but it felt like forever, Victoria sat in the back with Sherlock trying to get him to react to her. While he cuddled up to her he did nothing else to show that he heard her or even knew she was there.

When they arrived, John went around and pulled Sherlock out of the car. The boy seemed to come aware enough to notice all the people milling about and proceeded to hide his face in his fathers neck, hugging him tight in anxiety. They'd gone several steps before they began being stopped by well wishers. John was torn between wanting to get his child into the church and away from prying eyes and being polite to the people who had come out to show their support. He settled for somewhere in the middle, acknowledging as he pushed his way through. People were milling about as the doors hadn't been opened yet. John went up to the usher guarding the door.

"Hey mate, I'm the son. I just, can we get in a bit early. I need to.." He stopped but gestured to the shivering boy in his arms. The man nodded, giving a friendly smile, before turning and opening the doors to allow them to slip inside. John moved to the front, looking at the coffin placed up there. He felt the tears choke at him, but pushed them down as he seated himself getting Sherlock situated in his lap.

"I know this is hard love, you miss him and it hurts. But everyone goes sometime, and he was happy because he'd gotten to know his grandson." He felt Sherlock shift a bit but nothing else. "Just think he's not in pain anymore and he's in a much better place, where he can watch over us and care for us." Sherlock cuddled closer. Unsure what to say next, he was interrupted by the doors opening and people pouring in. His mother and Mary joined them at the front, glancing at him worriedly before he simply nodded and looked straight ahead.

The service was beautiful. Several friends got up to say a few words, John got up and held Sherlock who refused to release him, getting a few aww's from the audience, before getting a few tears.

"My father was a great man. He cared for his family like nothing else. He was fun to be around, good for a laugh when you were down. He was hard working and...sorry I apologize and I will be lucky if I grow up to be half the man he is. Among other things he took in a child that wasn't of his own flesh and blood and took him under his wing as a grandfather. One of my greatest memories will be of the two of them huddled up talking of pirates and treasure. We love you dad, and the world will not be the same without you."

There wasn't a dry eye in the place, except for the child on his shoulder as he went and sat. His mother got up and sang one his fathers favorite songs. He nearly cursed her internally because she had chosen "Amazing Grace" and he couldn't control the tears from slipping down his face a few sobs leaking out now and then. It was the time where the preacher called up the bearers to bring the casket down to the graveyard. John, expecting a fight, was surprised when Sherlock quietly slid of his lap and went to stand next to Mary. He ruffled his hair before going to do his duty.

The rest of the service was rather short. He was placed in the ground, a few more prayers said before being buried. John began milling about while he had his hands free talking with all the people that had known his father through his life. Listening patiently and often appreciatively at the stories of his youth. It was only when he caught Mary and Victoria out of the corner of his eye, that Sherlock wasn't around. Excusing himself he started to twist and turn scanning the area, panic beginning to grip him. He settled when finally far back into the graveyard, he spotted the boy sitting lone next to his fathers fresh grave. Quietly he walked over, only stopping when suddenly he heard Sherlock begin to speak.

"I- Know your in a betther place now. I'm thrying noth tho be sad because iths noth fair tho wish you were here when you were in pain all the thime. Buth you, you accepthed me like my own grandparenths never did. And...and John is justh so sad buth I know he's thrying tho prethend noth tho be because of me. I wish he wouldn'th do thath. I'm thrying tho keep ith thogether for him so thath he can be sad buth ith isn'th working. I wish there was a Capthain Riley tho fix this. I'll look afther him for you, I promise. Justh don'th forgeth us."

Tears were in John's eyes as he marched forward and scooped the surprised boy up in his arms.

"Oh Sherlock." He gasped and felt his hurt and sadness finally come to the surface. He felt Sherlock let go too and the two of them sat holding each other as their sad emotions finally came pouring out. They didn't notice when Mary and Victoria ushered everyone out of the graveyard, or sent a quick text to let them know they were getting rides home and to take all the time they needed.

They sat until the tears ended and then began to talk. Sherlock talked of all the pirate stories he was told and how he secretly thought the man had been a pirate when he'd been younger. John told Sherlock of the carpentry they'd done when he was a child and seeing the interest peak in the boys eyes.

"If you'd like I could teach you a few things." Sherlock hugged him excitedly. They sat silently for a while after that, taking strength from each other.

"Daddy."

"Yes?" He looked down at the child noticing another mood change.

"Please...I...please don'th leave me." He looked up eyes full of tears once more. Suddenly it all came to him. Sherlock being clingy, not speaking, not allowing John out of his sight. This had made him think he could lose his own daddy. It had made it real for him. It didn't matter that Ed had been an old man who'd seen a lot of life, it was still a son losing a father, something that Sherlock was too fragile to even consider.

"I am far to young to be going anywhere." He cuddled the boy close. "Your never getting rid of me unless you want too."

They cuddled like that for a long time, soaking in each others presence.

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Hope this was ok. Next chapter is going to be as much of a surprise for me as it will be for you :P. R&amp;R


	25. Chapter 25

DO NOT OWN! I promise madworld27 I will have him involved in another case very soon :D. For now Halloween.

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Things had gone pretty much back to normal in the weeks following the funeral. Sherlock was extra clingy but starting classes back up with Mrs Hudson had given him something to be distracted with. More than once Sherlock had come to John looking for more cases.

"I want to solve cases John. I can do it, I have both our memories." He pouted a bit. John put him off but knew something would have to give soon. He was a child but not a child. Eventually he would have to discuss something with Mary and Lestrade at a later date. FOr the moment Sherlock was content enough with his studies while John said that it was a little to busy at his own job to work out taking him to a crime scene. It was true enough, cold and flu season had started up recently and John and Mary spent their days running around helping thousands of people with sniffly noses, coughs and fevers.

Through all of that he did notice when Sherlock began to ask sly questions about his job. At first John, exhausted simply answered as they cuddled together watching Doctor Who. But as the days wore on he became a bit more suspicious.

"Not that I'm against it Lock." He said easing the boy using his nickname. "But why the sudden interest in my career?"

"No reason in parthicular." The boy said, suddenly focusing intently on the tv. He heard no more about it, but it was pretty much knocked from his mind when he realized Halloween was a few days away.

"We should take him out trick or treating." Mary said to him one evening after Sherlock had been tucked safely into bed.

"I don't know if thats a good idea." John sat letting the thought stew in his mind.

"Come on dear, we'll be with him. We can even have Lestrade scan the candy when we're done to be sure its safe. I'm sure he's never done this before, let him be a kid."

John stared at her pleading blue eyes before sighing.

"Alright, your correct as usual. He'll be perfectly safe with us there." SHe smiled and sat next to him on the couch placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Well that's good because he and Mrs Hudson has been working on his costume for a week now and he'd be very disappointed if he couldn't use it."

"Oh!" He feigned surprise eyes glinting at her teasingly. "So the whole household went behind my back on this. I think this requires some sort of punishment." He went to reach for Mary who jumped up giggling.

"Catch me if you can." She smirked at him before dodging her way upstairs.

John stayed back a moment to wander down the hall into Sherlock's room. The streetlight streaked in through the window lighting the boy's innocent face. His arm was curled around Hamish as his chest rose and fell with the deep breaths of sleep, his lips quirked in a small smile as for once he seemed to have pleasant dreams. Tucking the blanket in around him, he studied him a moment more, before quietly cracking the door and wandering up the stairs after his wife, who was still giggling away in their room.

It had been so long since they were carefree like this. They had lost their child sure, but they'd gained a child who needed them more. So it was sad and they would never forget, but Sherlock filled the void and gave them so much love in return for simple care and love that he should have been given in the beginning. He joined his wife in an evening of reaffirming their love. They were sure to use protection, satisfied with the life they had.

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It was Halloween, as of yet Sherlock had refused to disclose his costume to John instead saying he had two surprises for him that evening when he got home. The doctor spent the day going through the motions but part of his mind definitely on what he would discover that evening. The boy had been running around the flat for weeks with sly looks at his father and big toothy grins. All John could think of is this must be one heck of a pirates costume.

That evening when he and Mary reached home, Mrs Hudson grabbed them immediately and ushered them into her living room.

"First things first dears. He wanted me to show you this." She handed John a typed report. 'My Hero' By Sherlock Holmes. "Its one project generally assigned to children his age. He's been very excited for you to read it. Now while I help him with his costume, you go ahead and have a read."

The two hunched over the pages and scanned down. It ended up being about five pages long. If John wasn't so touched and emotional he would think leave it to a seven year SHerlock to write a full blown high school sized paper.

He had started by talking about his hero, the army doctor that saved lives. He put in stories from his time in afghanistan and sited a lot of his blog posts about their time together, John noticed a lot of the medical terms that Sherlock had been questioning him about weeks ago. Basically he'd written an Ode to John Watson, even greater than the fated Best Man Speech. He and Mary cuddled together sobbing quietly as they reached the end.

'John Watson saves lives. He saved his wife's, my mummy Mary's life. Giving her a life to live and a place to go where she doesn't need to be afraid anymore. He saved my life. He took an angry abused excrack head and taught him what love was and what family really means. Then he saved me again by taking me in as a messed up child, he helped me through my psychological scars, healed my physical wounds and protected me from Moriarty and anyone else wanted to hurt me. I used think there were no angels and no hero's. But I had one right in front of me all along.'

They were interrupted from their pondering when Mrs Hudson walked back in.

"Presenting: Doctor Holmes!" John blinked up as Sherlock walked proudly in, he couldn't help a laugh of delight. Sherlock was dressed in slack pants much like John often wore, his shoes were neat and shined. He had on a jumper, a carbon copy of one of John's favorites. On top of that he wore a white medical coat and when he got closer John could see a badge on it that read Doctor S. Holmes. In his hand was Hamish who had his own little medical coat and badge.

John stood and took Sherlock into a big bear hug.

"Well this is a surprise, I figured you'd dress as a pirate."

"Silly daddy I'm a pirathe everyday! This is dress up and I wanthed tho be like you! Mrs Hudson made the jumper and the whithe jacketh for me and Hamish. Do you like them?" He looked up pleadingly.

"I love them, and I'm honored that you think so highly of me. You're paper." He pushed through his emotions. "You're paper was beautiful."

They looked at each other grinning like they were inside their own joke their own world, like they had done long ago as adults on the run after criminals. A gentle clearing of a throat brought them back.

"I think we should get trick or treating don't you?" Mary said smiling proudly at her two boys as Mrs Hudson looked on at the three of them, tears in her loving eyes.

"Ok." John said taking Sherlock's small hand in his.

"Ok." Sherlock said reaching his free hand out to Mary. The three of them went out into the cool October night together. They laughed and talked and ooed over the other costumes that they saw. Sherlock filled a pillowcase and most of it coming from John and Mary's hospital friends who couldn't get enough about how adorable their child was especially as he was dressed as his daddy. Sherlock was shy as normal but he grinned face pinking as they complimented him, his hand firmly in John's grasping the strength he needed not to hide from all the new people grouped around him.

At the end of the evening Lestrade gladly scanned the candy being sure there were no razors or other things in the candy. They all studied to make sure there weren't pin pricks in any of it either. Finally satisfied that the candy was safe, they gathered a sleeping Sherlock from Lestrade's office where Donovan had been quietly watching over him.

Just before they left Sherlock sleeping soundly on John's shoulder, the man turned to the Detective.

"His memories are back enough for him to want to solve cases. Its hard for me on the one hand knowing he's seven but on the other knowing he already has all those other cases and murder scenes in his head and it isn't messing him up. Maybe...maybe if we let him do stuff like he did as an adult once in a while we can bring him back."

Lestrade studied him. "Do you really want to lose him like this?" He asked.

"Honestly not really but he's an adult in a child's body warring with the child personality and the adult personality and if we don't bring him back it could hurt him worse. I loved him as an adult and I love him now. I always care for him no matter what, making him an adult again won't change that. He may get annoyed but now that we know the life's he's had and why he has the total disregard for his own health...well he's going to find he has parents anyway. Even in his thirties." He shushed the boy who began to fidget in his sleep. Lestrade smiled down at them.

"I always knew you'd make him a good man." He started to turn and walk back to his office but just before he did. "We will find something for him. I miss that knucklehead too."

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Next chapter, Lestrade finds a case for little Sherlock to work on. R&amp;R


	26. Chapter 26

DO NOT OWN! Sherlock gets a case and yells at another incompetent adult. CHANGES MADE TO THE CHAPTER!

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As promised, when the Flu season lulled a bit, John contacted Lestrade for some sort of case for the child. Mary and he had talked and decided that they would allow him to try. If there were any nightmares or anything then he would have to wait until he was back to adult sized. Of course they knew that Sherlock would try to hide any terrors if they told him that part of the deal. So they simply told him he could have trial case. Secretly they knew he probably knew of the but in the statement but ignored it in being excited.

Fortunately for the public of London but unfortunately for the impatient child, they were well into November before Lestrade called them in on a case. John and Sherlock caught a cab, leaving Mary behind to have a quiet afternoon to herself. The man noticed the change in the boy as the cab brought them closer to their destination. He became reflective, tucking Hamish in his pocket he placed his hands to his chin in his adult thinking position and stared hard eyed at the floor of the cab. John sure he was preparing himself for the scene ahead and settled himself to watch out the window as they drove on.

It took twenty minutes to reach the scene and he hid a smile as Sherlock's lip curled in disgust. Just like it used to be.

"Why are all these people always ath crime scenes? They ruin any evidence." Huffing he walked slowly around the car and went leisurely towards the tape, his eyes darting around the area. Lestrade came towards them a small smile on his face. He began to speak to Sherlock, who ignoring him marched off to the left.

"Move!" He ordered and officer who was so surprised at the serious seven year old, obeyed looking helplessly at Lestrade who simply nodded and watched on. Sherlock circled the area, eyes narrowed he leaned forward hand fumbling in his pocket. John walked to stand near Lestrade as Sherlock pulled out his pocket magnifying glass he studied the area before motioning to the officer again.

"This is more evidence, you should cordon ith off." Instead of looking at Lestrade the cop went off immediately to get tape and a forensic photographer. Sherlock mumbled to himself a bit as he moved back towards Lestrade and John.

"Phone please Daddy." He said distractedly, still looking around on the ground. John handed it to him in awe of how fluid the boy was. It was almost like he could see the adult faded over the top of the child as he stalked further towards the tape. He stopped once more just before the yellow tape and called to the officer.

"More evidence!" He ducked just a little to make it under the tape. He twisted and turned looking all over the place. His lips were still moving silently as his eyes, hard with concentration, took everything in and processed it with lightning speed. The only time he paused was when he finally reached the body. It was of a teenage girl. If John didn't know any better, he would think that the boy recognized who she was. He stood still for a long moment and just as John was beginning to think he should get him out of there, the face went cold once more. He circled the body once, then kneeled down beside her using his magnifying glass. Once he turned to Lestrade and asked for a latex glove, before reaching and pulling open her coat. He seemed suddenly to come up with something.

"Daddy can you thell me how she died?" He asked absently as he typed away on the phone face scrunched in concentration. Looking once to the Inspector who nodded his ascent he knelt by the body. He studied noticing burst blood vessels in her eyes...interesting, he studied her throat seeing bruises, and looked at the back of her head.

"Dead for a couple hours I'd say. She died from asphyxiation not the blow to the head. That appeared to come first. Whoever it was cracked her head against the ground possibly to stun her so he could choke her.

"I concur." Sherlock mumbled suddenly scanning the crowd. "AHA!" He said. Turning he said quietly. "I know who it is follow me." He ran up the hill, looking like just some kid skipping merrily on a nice day. However, his face was focused and as John tried to figure out who he was looking at the boy got closer to the tape.

"He did it." The boy blinked up stubbornly at a man who was looking down disgustedly at him. John tilted his head a bit, he was sure he recognized the bloke. But a split second later he had begun to run. JOhn managed to grab Sherlock who had tried to run after him. The boy squirmed in his arms.

"JOHN!" The boy yelped before blinking and shaking his head." UH Daddy whath are you doing? He's getthing away!" The boys face was pained and distressed, glancing from the direction the man and Lestrade had gone to where the girl lay in the grass.

"You stay here, your too young for this. I will help catch him." Sherlock looked at him wavering. "You trust me don't you."

Sherlock nodded firmly. "Go!" He ordered, not having to say it again as the man had already jumped the tape and took off down the street. He wished later he had just stayed. He ran down the block and took the right he'd seen the others take in the distance. He nearly ran past what he thought was an empty alley before he heard scuffling. Ducking in it took him a moment to acclimate to the gloom. Lestrade was laying flat on his back grappling with the man standing above him a knife in hand.

"I won't let her ruin me! I won't." John still couldn't place him but he knew now for sure that this person was recognizable. He stealthily moved behind the man. Reaching around he maneuvered and twisted the mans knife arm almost to the point of popping it out of socket before man finally yelped and dropped the knife. He turned catching John by surprise and giving him a blow to the temple. John scrambled back stunned trying to gain his bearings. He put himself down in a fighting stance staring around widly for an attack. It took him a few moments to realize that Lestrade's voice was speaking to him.

"John mate, its ok. I got him." John relaxed minutely allowing his eyes to adjust into focus again. He saw LEstrade was indeed alright standing with the fuming man in handcuffs. John stood straight automatically taking stock of his injuries. Small headache, no concusion. Not bad for a Sherlock case, he thought amused. Noticing the grin on his face Lestrade grinned back before dragging the perp out onto the street. John followed after him. They were nearly back to the scene when sudden yelling from off to the sidelines caught their attention. John stiffened when he realized one of the parties involved was Sherlock. Lestrade whistled for an officer to come over and take the suspect, he and John heading over to the disturbance.

"SARAH ELIZABETH! You do not belong here and you will be coming home with me straight away. Or you will be very sorry!"

"I'm already sorry, I don't want to be with you!"

John froze when he heard Lestrade beside him swear. "My daughter and ex." The man said curtly hurrying. They were still too far away when Sherlock who had been blocking the frightened girl from her angry mother spoke up.

"You leave her alone, you could already geth in big throuble when we thell Uncle Dethecithive whath you did tho her! You won'th be able tho hurth her again!" JOhn watched in slow motion as the angry woman drew herself up. She was ample bodied, clearly very drunk and very angry.

"Disrespecthhh! I will nottt tolerate that!" John screamed running faster as the back of her hand collided with Sherlock's face. The boys head snapped to the left. He turned eyeing her coldly a small smirk on his face.

"That the best you can do you pathetic piece of human meat." So close not close enough, so many people in the way watching but not helping the two children clearly being hurt. Never had John wanted to shoot people so bad in his life.

"WHY YOU!" He pushed through watching as she grabbed the boys wrist and shaking him by it.

"Move! Please someone stop her! That's my son!" He tried to twist out of her grip, pain clear on his face. She back handed him once more, his already bruising cheek turning redder, a thin line of blood running down his cheek from where her ring cut him. John heard a snap over the murmurings of the audience. He was so close, he was screaming for Sherlock.

"Now move brat."

"No." His voice was steady as was his face. She held his broken wrist and reached out to slap him again. John could see the fear hidden in his eyes, but he kept the little blond girl firmly behind him and faced the woman down.

THWACK! John had fit himself neatly in between the woman and his child. Turning not considering for one moment this was a woman, like most men he had a rule against hitting woman, she was a monster. A child hurter, he punched her square in the face.

"You fucking touch these children again and I'll kill you." He hissed down at her as she looked up at him fearfully. He watched as the crocodile tears came when Lestrade stepped up behind her. He lifted the woman silently and cuffed her tightly ignoring her pleas and cry's as another officer who finally pushed his way through took her off to a car. John stared down at Sherlock who had turned and was being hugged tightly by the little blond girl. He had his arms wrapped around her and he stood quietly giving silent comfort to the sobbing child.

"Sherlock, can you bring her to the car?" Lestrade had tried to touch her but as upset as she was she flinched away anyone taller than the boy she clung desperately too. Nodding, he whispered something in her ear, and followed the detective through the silent suddenly clear path through the people. It sincerely took John all his willpower not to punch a few more faces. Who watched children getting belittled and hurt and did nothing? A side not was a deep sigh and burst of hurt deep in his chest. 'Why was it always Sherlock?' He was such a good, generous person and he got every bad thing that came their direction. It was any wonder the man hadn't been a Moriarty. He was truly stronger and more loving than he'd ever given himself credit for.

Their first stop was the hospital. Sherlock looked on distastefully as he was immediately led down the hall to radiology. He looked up fearfully at John who knelt down.

"I'll be here, I just have to stay in the room with the nurse. We have to cast that wrist." The boy nodded before obediently climbing up and positioning his arm. There were several pictures, several poses, and several tears from both father and son before the woman got what she needed. She led them down the hall to a nice big room, helping Sherlock onto the bed before leaving them to go take a look at the xrays and confer with a doctor. John already put in a call to Mycroft which is how they got in so quickly. The doctor came in eyes sad and grim, but he put a smile on for the boy.

"Well Sherlock's arm is broken. The radius and ulna. They are however clean breaks, so we will put them back in place and he'll get a cast." John nodded feeling ill." Of course he'll have to use a sling to keep it steady as well. Now son, what color cast would you like?"

Sherlock blinked up at him, considering for a moment. "Yellow." He stated simply. The man nodded before heading out to get the supplies. It was a long painful time for both Sherlock and John. Sherlock had been given some strong pain killers but even as a child his adult immunity was there. He held fast to John with his good hand when they manuevered the bones in place. They let him rest a moment preparing the casting. This part was quicker and in no time Sherlock's arm was casted yellow. Once shown how to use the sling and given some instructions to John. (He didn't bother to say they weren't needed) they went out to meet Sarah and Lestrade in the waiting room.

"You want to go home now I imagine?"

"We can'th!" Sherlock said suddenly looking briefly at Sarah's face before up at Lestrade. "You have thwo suspecths tho thalk tho, and Sarah's going tho have tho be with you ath the sthathion. I'll keep her company."

John looking down at Sherlocks determined face agreed. "It will be good for the two of them to have company. And I have someone I need to speak too." HIs eyes flashed and his voice went hard at that. Lestrade simply nodded and led them out to the car.

The car ride was silent except Sarah, whose tears began thinking it was her fault that Sherlock had been harmed. John had been proud to bursting, when they had settled in the car and the boy had presented the girl with Hamish.

"His names Hamish, he's good for making people feel betther. YOu can borrow him." She'd given him a grateful look before cuddling the bee close and getting as close to him as she could. By the time they reached the yard, Lestrade was able to take her hand, she took Sherlocks' hand along with Hamish's wing in her other. John followed along behind, debating on how he was going to make this up to the boy again. He was waiting for the day the boy would begin to hate him for not following up with his promise to protect him.

Lestrade led them down the hall to an interrogation room. He sat heavily on one side allowing the children to sit on the other. John stood quietly in the corner as moral support. Lestrade just looked sadly at his daughter for a few moments, tears forming in his eyes.

"Buttercup.." He began his voice cracking before he cleared it to continue. "Why...why didn't you tell me this was happening?" She looked desperately at Sherlock who seemed to read her before responding in a mumbled voice, staring firmly at the table.

"Ith's a new developmenth. Your ex was jealous thath you weren'th pining for her anymore. Parth of the fun for her in relathionships is playing conthrol and you weren'th playing anymore. She thried the same with Sarah and thried tho geth her tho thurn on you...buth she wouldn'th because she knew betther and idolizes you." Sarah managed a small smile at her father at that statement. " Her mother goth a new boyfriend and the thwo of them began drinking every nighth. One nighth she losth ith and hith Sarah. She threathened tho kill you if Sarah thold and then promised ith wouldn'th happen again. Buth ith did because they never sthop."His voice was hard and angry now and John knew he wasn't just thinking of Sarah's situation anymore. "They thell you thath if your smarther, nicer, cleaner, sweether thath ith will end and they will love you. Buth they never do. She figured ith outh when I didn'- I mean she figured ith outh and came for you finding outh you were ath the crime scene. Her mother followed and tried tho drag her back in the car. I wouldn'th leth her." He looked up at Lestrade daring him to say anything.

"Ok...ok." Lestrade stood and moved around the table pulling Sarah into a deep hug. "I'm so sorry buttercup. We'll fix this, you'll come live with me and this...this won't ever happen again." John waited for a sarcastic comment from Sherlock about how no one would protect her and it would happen to again. He waited for a disgusted look in his direction, angry looks, angry words, anything. What he didn't expect was a pale face, tears clinging onto lashes turn pleadingly towards him. Sherlock looked once over his shoulder to be sure that Sarah was properly busy before turning back to JOhn and lifting his good arm, silently asking for comfort. John felt as if he floated across the room he got there so fast. He encased the boy tightly in his arms, feeling the shudders rip through him and began to whisper sweetly to him.

"Such a good brave boy. I'm so proud of you for protecting her. Shhh you're a good boy. You're such a kindhearted boy." He whispered it over and over as the two children calmed themselves. Sherlock naturally pulled himself together first, at least on the outside, wanting to be strong for Lestrade's child who he found out later was actually three years older than Sherlock's current age.

After calming their children, they brought the two of them to Lestrade's office leaving Donovan who'd been at another scene, to sit quietly with them as they colored together. Sarah still had Hamish clutched under her arm, Sherlock glanced longly at him every once and a while but said nothing stoically continuing to color away. Lestrade's eyes twinkled at them for a moment before turning to John seriousness back.

"Would you like to join me?"

"Oh yes." He hissed back.

After an hour of angry words from them they finally broke her down. She balled now that she was sober enough to realize what she had done.

"That poor-innocent boy-I- oh my." Unable to speak after that Lestrade simply said that John was not pressing charges out of respect for Lestrade and Sarah but she was required to go to rehab for at least ninty days and she would likely never have any sort of custody over their daughter again. She agreed silently and only spoke once more when they were about to leave.

" I know it won't mean much, but please tell the boy I'm sorry and...and thank you for protecting my daughter." John nodded tightly before following Lestrade out.

As they reached the office, they heard Sherlock speaking excitedly.

"Somethimes grandmum and I wathch whath's ith called? Crap thelly! Well he's a new thalk show hosth on the thv...she was on his show all the thime buth he was always looking ath her angrily. I nothiced there was a foothprinth thath's the same as his shoes. His is special ordered tho have his name in Japanese characthers. He thried tho rub outh the mark buth parth of ith was lefth and if you look ath the bruising on her neck ith'll mathch the ring he sthuck down his booth justh afther uncle dethecthive got him." Donovan took notes shaking her head, jaw open a little in disbelief. Sarah sat quietly her hand holding Sherlock's good hand tightly. They both turned when their fathers came in. Sarah ran to Greg jumping into his arms while Sherlock walked more sedately to John.

"Can we go home?" He asked quietly his voice betraying how exhausted he was. While John had pled with Sherlock to put ice on his face the boy had neglected too saying it made it hurt more. His cheek was swollen like that of a chipmunk and his eye was nearly sealed shut. He decided they needed to go home where he could keep an eye on the boy and make sure he iced his face. He reached out to take Sherlock's hand, nodding to Lestrade as they started to walk out the door.

"Wait!" A high pitched voice called. They turned as Sarah came running up to them. She handed Sherlock Hamish before throwing her arms about him and then pulling back planted a kiss on his cheek. They watched as his face went a brilliant shade of red and he stared at the other child as if she was an unknown creature.

"Thank you for saving me, and letting Hamish keep me company. YOu're my best friend Sherlock!" She chirped hugging him once more. "See you soon!" She raced back to her father who was looking softly at the two children.

"Welcome..." Sherlock stuttered back she blew a kiss back at him before they disappeared into the office. Then Sherlock turned and raised his arms once more. John scooped him up and took him out to the cab and home.

Later he would ice the bruises much to the child's chagrin. They would talk about how sorry JOhn was that this had happened again and Sherlock would say it wasn't the same. He couldn't be there every second and when he did get there he protected him. He'd hug his daddy tightly and tell him how much he loved him. He'd settle in with Hamish and go to sleep

Later in the night John and Mary would remain awake until the child pattered in and slid into the sheets between them huddling against John and finally the three of them would find a peaceful sleep.

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So Sarah will definitely be returning later. For W cubed I definitely have a birthday story planned for Sherlock but we're only in November and his birthday is in January ;). I'm thinking Sherlock gets some sort of illness and tries to hide it. Pretty standard fanfiction stuff but a bit of hurtcomfort is always good for the soul. If anyone has other ideas please don't hesitate to let me know! R&amp;R


	27. Chapter 27

DO NOT OWN! Changed my mind about Sherlock getting sick. Since I just broke his arm I figured he didn't need to be ill on top of that. So instead I'm going to have a few chapters of Christmas cheer and do the sickness on later.

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December came and Sherlock was beginning to get very impatient with his cast. He itched at it, and stared at it moodily. When he'd first come home with it he'd settled down and colored black stripes on it, pleased when it came out looking like a bee. But the novelty had passed and Sherlock a generally active boy with his hands doing experiments and such was done. Unfortunately he still had until well after Christmas with the cast and it was only the first of the month.

Mary and John had been talking for weeks what they wanted to do for Christmas and they finally decided to get the festivities started. The first thing, they decided was to get a tree and decorations. So one Saturday, Sherlock was definitely confused when they bundled him up and brought him out to the car. He sat knitted hat on his head, and warm pair of knitted gloves on his hand, both made for him special by Mrs Hudson in his growing favorite colors of black and yellow. He held Hamish tightly in his hand eyes darting between his parents trying to figure out what they were doing. It saddened the two of them when he clearly came up blank. A seven year old should know that if you get bundled up in December it means tree time. They ignored this bitter thought, putting out happy thoughts. This weekend was going to be a good one.

They set out going down streets, pointing out decorations to an excited Sherlock who especially seemed excited for a plastic Santa and reindeer display. His eyes glowed as they passed stores with lights, trees and trimming. He giggled at the santa's standing out ringing the bells for collections. He had brightened so much they were glad that they had their weekend planned so well.

Finally they reached the lot. Sherlock jumped out and looked around in awe. Dozens and dozens of tree's varying in shapes and sizes plastered the area. There were children running around laughing and screaming, smiling parents patiently following after them, complimentary cups of cocoa in hand. First things first, John took Sherlock's hand so he could feel secure with all the people around. They went up to a table set out and got three glasses of hot cocoa and three warm homemade donuts. Sherlock sipped away, cheeks glowing pink in the chill. Then JOhn spoke to him.

"We want you to choose the tree that you like. Whichever one." John had judged that all the trees would be able to fit in the apartment without cutting them down. Sherlock beamed at him before dragging him around Mary following smiling. Sherlock studied each tree carefully but passed by tons in his search. His donut was gone as he'd been munching it absently although he nursed the drink as if it was precious gold.

They'd been there a good half hour, the adults watching amused as Sherlock seemed to deduce each tree before he suddenly stopped in front of one looking at it almost in awe.

"This one daddy." He said reverently reaching out to touch the pine needles gently. Smiling John heaved it up and pulled it towards the pay stand. Smiling the woman charged them and gave them change before looking down at the excited child.

"You have a very Happy Christmas young man." She smiled.

John and Mary were surprised and pleased when Sherlock grinned back "You thoo ma'am!" Before turning and racing towards their car.

"Such a sweet boy you have." She nodded to them.

"Yes he is. THank you." Mary said as the two of them followed after the boy.

John got the tree bungee corded to the roof and they made the journey home. John brought the tree in the flat while Sherlock supervised to make sure "he didn'th hurth ith" and set it up in its holder with water, so that the branches could settle overnight. Then he took Sherlock by the hand and brought him, confused back down to the car. THen they were on the road again.

This time they stopped at a nearby mall. It was murder finding parking but finally in an out of the way back corner of the parking lot he finally snuck into a spot, just before another car came around the corner. As they got out of the car, John noticed Sherlock's overwhelmed face. It was a huge amount of people, but they knew that he had to get used to people sometime or he would become a recluse. To keep him calm, however, John picked the boy up minding his injured arm and settled him on his hip. When the reached the front of the mall, Sherlock wiggled from John's grasp to the man's surprise and ran over to the santa standing there with the bell and collections plate. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a bill and pushed it into the tin.

"Merry Christhmas Santha!" He said brightly as the impersonator ho'ho'ho'd and ruffled his hair in thanks. Sherlock darted back to John and raised an arm asking to be picked up once more.

"That was very generous of you my darling." He whispered in Sherlock's ear. Sherlock simply shrugged smiling a bit as they walked into the mall. He sat up in the man's arm and gasped. Decorations everywhere the eye could see. Huge versions of glass decorations hung from the ceiling, paper snowflakes everywhere. Tree's circled the middle of the room decorated to perfection, the smell of pine invading their senses.

They began with the closest decoration store and moved their way from there. In each store they prompted Sherlock to find a decoration taht he liked. At first it was difficult but finally the boy forgot to act like a nervous adult and acted like a child. He squealed in particular when the disney store they found a bee ornimate from Winnie the Pooh. As they went through stores, John and Mary picked up strands of lights they could use to decorate tree and flat. Finally, as they were headed out of the latest store, John noticed Sherlock dozing on his arm. Looking at his watch he realized they'd been there for over two hours.

They headed home to tuck in their child and get some sleep themselves.

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The next morning was grey and dreary. The perfect day for decorating. SHerlock was bouncing and talking animatedly as they ate breakfast about all the decorations in the stores.

"Well I think we can start decorating our own flat after you get dressed." John said lovingly. The boy skidded down the hall into his room as the adults chuckled and cleaned the breakfast things.

Midmorning found them stringing lights around the apartment, as Sherlock put up decorations on the tree, at least where he could reach. CUps of Mary's homemade hot chocolate were sitting on the table, strains of CHristmas music playing in the background. When they finished stringing the lights they joined Sherlock getting decorations hung higher on the tree before it was finally time for the last step.

John handed Sherlock the tree topper, an angel, he looked up at the man confused.

"I can'th reach."

"Ah but its tradition for the youngest to top the tree. I can help you with that." His eyes twinkled as he lifted Sherlock and set him on his neck holding his knees and bringing him towards the tree. Sherlock laughed as he was lifted and proudly placed the angel on the tree, turning with a smile as Mary called them both. She snapped a picture, that was later framed on the mantel. Sherlock grin wide placing the angel, John looking up lovingly at the forever laughing in delight.

The rest of the day was spent introducing Christmas movies to the child as they drank cocoa and cuddled together in the glow of the decorations. Later as they were putting the sleepy child to bed he thanked them for including him in their christmas.

"It's our Christmas Sherlock. There wouldn't be any holiday without you." THe boy smiled tearfully as they read him a christmas book and just as they were leaving he added something else.

"MY favorithe movie was the Muppeth Christhmas Carol. I wish I had a Kermith..." He dozed off at that, and John hoped that he had sweet dreams that night.

The two adults went and sat before the lit tree discussing their next Christmas plans for Sherlock.

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Hope you enjoyed. Next one will probably be cookie baking or some such. Don't worry madworld27 we can't have a Christmas season without a case. So either next chapter or the one after I'll have something just for you :). R&amp;R


	28. Chapter 28

DO NOT OWN! Short one this time, trying to plan the crime Christmas Chapter. Any suggestions are great :)

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The following weekend John and Mary had decided to have Sherlock help them bake cookies on Saturday and they could take them around to different places to pass them out. They decided to make a few dozen for a nearby orphanage, some for the hospital where the two of them worked, a plate for Mrs Hudson, a plate for Sarah and Lestrade. When Sherlock was brought into their plans he asked to make another two plates but refused to say who they were for.

The day dawned with just a little snow coming down. They had a simple breakfast of cereal and cleaned up while Sherlock trotted off to put some of his rattier clothes on. Since getting his memories back he favored his suits much like the adult version, but they did have an easier time getting him into jeans and a tshirt especially with activities such as this.

He came trotting back as Mary finished putting a few ingredients into the bowl.

"There's my helper. Why don't you start mixing these and I'll get the wet ingredients together." She smiled as Sherlock scrambled into the chair and began to mix. She turned humming to herself as she mixed her own ingredients together, listening as John dug into the hall closet looking for the cookie cutters he'd bought the previous winter. Finding them brand new in the package at the back of the closet he breathed a sigh of relief. He really didn't want to go to the mall again before he had too for presents.

As he wandered back into the kitchen he heard a bunch of little sneezes. Blinking up he started to laugh when he saw Sherlock, face tucked in the crook of his elbow sneezing. His face was covered in white powder as was the front of his shirt.

"What happened?" He asked trying to get a handle on his amusement.

"Oh dear..he got a little over zealous when stirring and it got in his face." Mary said looking lovingly at the child who finally calmed his sneezing and looked at her expectantly for the next step.

"I'll do this step, you help your dad get things on the table in order. Its more fun to cut out the cookies and decorate them than it is to make the batter." Sherlock looked relieved as he hopped down and dragged the chair after him. He stopped a moment to pull Hamish from his pants pocket trying without much success to get the powdery substance off of him. Sighing, he simply shrugged and put the bee on the table within sight but far enough away that hopefully nothing more would get on him.

The boy sat on his knees on the chair and helped his father open the different packages of cookie cutters. There was a gingerbread man shape, tree, santa, angel, present, star, and reindeer. Then the two of them greased four baking sheets and spread some flour on the table so that the dough wouldn't stick. By that point Mary had placed the first batch in front of them and turned humming to start some more.

Sherlock watched John carefully as he selected the star cutter, rolled the dough out and began to make cuts, placing the figures carefully out on the cookie sheet. Satisfied he knew what to do Sherlock grabbed the Santa one and began his own cuttings.

The morning went on much the same. Making dough, cutting, placing on cookie sheets, and the warm homey smell of baking cookies wafting through. At one point John had stood and started the Christmas music, attempting to teach a smiling Sherlock the words as they worked. As always the boy was a fast learner and had decided that Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer was his favorite song.

"He's an outhcasth like me, who finally found family thath loved him." He confided to them later when they asked about his choice. Ruffling his hair, they just smiled as they continued their baking expedition. Finally they ran out of dough to cut and the first few batches were cooled enough to decorate.

Mary had already made homemade buttercream frosting and dyed several different colors in separate bowls. Sherlock grabbed a santa cookie and carefully began to spread the frosting on, taking care to keep the colors as accurate as possible. He giggled and shook his head as he looked over at his daddy's tree.

"Daddy three's aren'th purple!"

"This one is!" He defended his creation to the child while waggling his eyebrows. As he had hoped Sherlock loosened a bit and started to get a little crazy with his decorations, even making a pink reindeer, although he defended that it was Rudolph glowing by the light of his nose and he wasn't actually pink. The adults simply humored him as they decorated and got plates together.

By Sherlock's bedtime they had finished everything, even with taking breaks for lunch, tea and dinner. The boy was tired, barely even able to keep his eyes open as he wondered down the hall to the bathroom to brush his teeth without being asked. The adults finished cleaning the kitchen and curious because Sherlock hadn't reappeared with a look asking for a bedtime story, they went down the hall. Going into his room their hearts warmed as they saw him all tucked up into bed Hamish in his arms and "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" on his lap. It was one of his favorites and so far they had read that one every night along with a few new ones. Carefully pulling the book from his arms, John placed it on the shelf, tucking the boy in fully before moving curls from his forehead and leaning down to place a kiss.

"Goodnight Sherlock, I love you." He whispered before moving to let Mary say her goodnights. They flipped off the light and stood in the doorway watching the peaceful child sleep for a few moments. Christmas cheer really warming up in them as he sighed happily and rolled in his sleep.

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Passing out cookies was not nearly as easy as making them, John thought the next day as they finally made it to the orphanage. They had to pack them all in the car and make sure they wouldn't move but couldn't stack them or they would get crushed. He admitted his temper was high by the time they pulled up to the first stop. Although it went away quick enough when Sherlock took two of the six plates they were dropping off in hand, and went running up to one of the adults who helped care for the children there.

"We made cookies for everyone!" He announced excitedly grinning up at the lady. She awed at him before reaching down to accept the plates from him. "Follow me please." Sherlock skipped after her while John and Mary followed him, each carrying plates carefully up the slippery walk and into the building. THey were led down a hall into a room where quite a few children were gathered playing board games scattered around the floor. They looked up almost shyly as the new people walked into the room.

"Hello everyone, this is the Watson family, they were kind enough to make sugar cookies for everyone. Can you say thank you?" THe children were already clambering up smiling brightly and choruses of thank you's reached their ears. They began to walk towards them all trying to talk at once. John nearly fell over when something bashed into his legs. He looked down seeing Sherlock quaking and looking up at him pleadingly. Setting the cookies down quickly, he scooped the boy up and adjusting him so his injured wrist was safe.

"What is it darling?" He whispered to the boy whose eyes were darting around at the kids.

"Kids don'th like me." He said simply. John closed his eyes at that. That's right, he'd always been bullied, never had a child who would be his friend, stick up for him, or even like him.

"I think these kids do. You came to visit and brought snacks. Besides what about Sarah?" John mumbled back.

Sherlock looked at him fearfully before simply shaking his head and hiding it in John's neck. He was at a loss of what to do when a little brown haired girl came up and tugged on Sherlock's shoe. The boy managed to peel his face away and look down fearfully.

"My name's Lizzy, what's yours?" She sent a dazzling smile up at him, dimples showing.

"Sherlock..." He said uneasily as he looked down at her.

"Thank you for the cookies Sherlock, their really good! You must be the nicest boy ever!" She grinned up at him once more taking a bite of cookie.

"You're welcome." He said studying her.

"Do you want one?" She asked offering him her second one. He finally cracked a smile before shaking his head at her.

"No I already had one, you keep it." She smiled again.

"Do you want to play a game?" She asked.

"I- we have more cookies tho deliver." He said shyly.

"Well that's very important. You should come back to visit, we can play then." Her eyes twinkled. "It was nice to meet you Sherlock, Mr Watson." She skipped off into the crowd before they could respond.

Mary waded over to them and coaxed them out stopping long enough to say goodbye to the adults passing out the cookies and saying they may bring 'the darling boy back for a play date' sometime soon. Sherlock was clearly mid thought and they left him too it as they buckled him and brought him to their next stop.

The hospital was grateful and they ended up staying and talking for a bit. When they got to Lestrade's it turned out Sarah was at her grandparents so they gave over the cookies but let him get back to his case that was bothering him. None of them noticed the considering look Sherlock got as he heard a bit about the case. But he said nothing as they went back out into the car.

"Well Sherlock, the two plates left are yours. What are we doing with them?" Sherlock smiled before giving them an address. One John was sure he recognized. He was right, it was the club where Mycroft often kidnapped him too. He looked uneasily at Mary.

"Sherlock..I"m not sure.."

"It's alright." He said bluntly, hopping out of the car. John shrugged and opened the boot. He was surprised when Sherlock peeled one cookie from the plate and left the rest in the back. Then he bounced up to the door and knocked. John was sure his eyes would bug out more when Mycroft himself answered.

He shook his head at his little brother before saying fondly. "I knew you'd come." He patted Sherlock gently on the head accepting the cookie before handing the boy a small package. "Not until Christmas Sherlock." He admonished gently. Sherlock hugged him quickly about the knees before turning and running back to the car. John watched as Mycroft looked longingly at his little brother for just a moment before the mask was back in place.

"I made an acceptation for Christmas. Do not bring him here again." He said coldly to John before turning back and closing the door. John got into the car and turned seeing a couple tears run down Sherlock's face.

"M alrighth." He said noticing John's look. "I know he's keeping me safe. Iths' alrighth." He gave them another address and sat back talking quietly to Hamish as they drove. This time John didn't recognize where they were. It was a rundown house in the middle of no where. He was nervous and wondered how Sherlock knew of this place.

"Hang on, I'll justh be a minuthe." SHerlock said taking the plates and running up to the door. He kicked it a couple times. "Ron! Ith's me!" After a few moments a kid poked his head out and looked warily at the adults. Deciding they would stay near the car, he stepped out.

"'Ello Mate."

"I've broughth you guys cookies!" Sherlock said excitedly. Ron's face lit up.

"Excellent, let me take them and get someone who want's to see you. Be right back." He took the plates and Sherlock hopped a little to warm up waiting patiently. John watched as the kid came back with a young girl in tow.

"It's good to see you again Sherlock." She said gently giving him a short hug.

"Glad your feeling ok sthill." Sherlock said shyly.

"Thanks ter you mate." Ron said ruffling his hair. Sherlock smiled at him but caught the two of them shivering.

"Go back in and eath your cookies!" He ordered. "I'll see you lather!" He waved at them before running back to the car and bundling in. John blinked confused before hopping in.

"Who were they then?"

"They gave me a place tho go when I ran off lasth year." He said simply looking troubled at the thought of that time.

John decided not to push it for the moment and instead flicked the radio on. To Sherlock's delight Rudolph was playing.

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Well then next one is Christmas shopping and a mystery. R&amp;R.


	29. Chapter 29

DO NOT OWN! Sorry for the delay, I was trying to do a little better on the case he solves this time, not sure I succeeded but it isn't a murder case so its at least different :). Thanks for all the reviews, and thanks again to madworld27 for your invaluable help! I will keep going on this story as long as I have ideas.

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Sherlock was definitely acting different in the recent couple of weeks. They were now a week before Christmas and nearly everyday he had asked someone to take him to a nearby mall/store that had a Santa for the kids to sit on his lap. At first, knowing how excited the boy was for Santa, especially almost believing he'd might get a visit this year (they knew he wouldn't completely believe it until Christmas morning) they thought he simply wanted to visit and enjoy a piece of Christmas he'd always been denied before. Then he noticed that Sherlock was intensely focused while at home, spending hours on the internet pouring over something. A couple times, his adult selfs cellphone beeped and the boy would run and answer it, brow curled in concentration. John tried a couple times to peek at who he was talking to or what about but Sherlock erased all the messages ensuring that he didn't leave a trail. A little miffed, he decided to just allow the boy to have his fun. After all he'd been solving cases without John for a long time and he didn't necessarily need his help all the time.

It didn't come to a great surprise then, that Saturday exactly one week before Christmas when Sherlock came over to him, a serious look on his face, Hamish tucked under his arm.

"Daddy can we go tho the mall? I wanth tho see Santha."

"Again?" John asked in mock surprise smiling at the boy to let him know he wasn't irritated as he stood and set his book aside. Mary was moving about making cookies in the kitchen, the air smelling of baked goods, Christmas tree and the sound of music echoing through.

Sherlock simply sent a small smile up to his father before skipping into the kitchen to give Mary a hug and down the stairs to put on his shoes and jacket. John followed slowly after, giving Mary a lingering kiss before nabbing a cookie, just missing being swatted by her spatula as he followed Sherlock down the stairs. He cocked his head a bit when he noticed Sherlock hunched over typing away on something, but as he made it the rest of the way down the stairs Sherlock was looking up at him expectantly no sign of a phone, just Hamish hanging out of the front of his pocket, his knit hat and gloves on.

"I guess someone's ready then." He chuckled throwing his own jacket on, taking Sherlock's hand firmly before letting them out into the cold London air. Pondering he decided to take a cab, he didn't feel much like driving and this way he could enjoy the decorations that Sherlock was always excited to point out as they passed them.

The carefree happiness that Sherlock radiated more often now was a breath of fresh air for the two adults. They just hoped that he continued to feel safe and happy enough to show his true self when he became an adult. Sitting in the back of the cab John simply observed Sherlock who sat on his knees, nose pressed in the window, he could see the boys wide grin and blue green eyes sparkling in the window as they passed Santa's, elves, tree's and other decorations.

When the cab pulled up to the mall, he saw the smile on the boys face melt away and a little fear appear before he put on a mask. John looked around and seeing the mass of people understood.

"We could come back later?" He suggested quietly as they got out of the cab. Sherlock simply shook his head and waited patiently as John paid the cab. Then he held his good arm up and John lifted him and settled him comfortably, the boy visibly relaxing as he was put in the safety of the man's arms. John began to whistle Christmas tunes as they walked towards the door. He stopped long enough for Sherlock to put a couple of dollars in the collection tin.

"Back again young man?" The man asked kindly.

Sherlock nodded smiling brightly.

"Well you two have fun." The man said winking before going back to his bell and collections. John shuffled his way through the throngs of people and into the mall. Taking a breather he looked around and felt a little overwhelmed himself. He hugged Sherlock tighter a sudden bit of nerves grabbing him. He'd been protective of the odd genius detective from his first deduction and it had only grown exponentially especially after nearly losing him four times now. He would die before he let anyone hurt the boy and/or man again. Sherlock hugged his neck and placed a kiss on his cheek smiling encouragingly at the man.

Then they were engulfed by the crowd, it took all of John's military wit to keep them from getting run over, while keeping an eye out for the Santa Claus line. At one point he saw Sherlock flick his good hand at someone in what he realized was British Sign Language. John missed who he was signing too and Sherlock was again scanning the crowd for Santa.

When they finally found the line, John was gratified to see that it was only a few children long. Sherlock squirmed in his arms, and finally John set him down.

"Daddy?" He knelt down to the boys level so he could hear him. Sherlock looked at him shyly, John waited patiently for him to get his nerve up and ask for what he wanted. "Will you geth us some cocoa?" He finally asked quietly.

"Of course love, you stay here, I'll be right back." There was a crowd of parent's , elves and security guards along with the fact that the cocoa was only a few paces away he was comfortable going to get them a couple of drinks.

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Sherlock bounced impatiently in line his eyes flicking everywhere. He'd been contacted by a client a week ago through his website. Bored he'd decided to take it. There were several thefts going on in the nearby malls and stores, the only thing in common was the santa's that worked. It had taken him several trips to different Santa Claus's, sitting with them, listening to their tones of voices, how they spoke to other children, and where their eyes wandered before finally figuring out who it was and where they would strike next. He didn't want to turn the man in, he knew that he was broke and doing two...no three he amended seeing the dust on the bottom of his boots, jobs to make sure he could take care of his family. THe stealing was to ensure that his children would have some sort of a Christmas. However, he knew it was wrong and he thought maybe if Lestrade got involved, the man was nice enough to give the thief's family a hand.

Glancing off to the left of and just behind the Santa chair, he caught sight of Lestrade waiting patiently, the man smiled at him when he caught him looking and Sherlock smiled back.

"Ho ho ho! And whose next?" The boy smiled, even on a case he was excited to sit on Santa's lap. He'd watched a couple of times when Mycroft had been younger when he sat on Santa's lap as part of a publicity thing for his parents, but Sherlock had never been allowed on the grounds that his was to bad and bratty and freaky to be on the lap of someone as pure as Santa. Deep down he still felt twinges of the fear that that was true, but everyday that he had with John, Mary and Mrs Hudson the pain started to fade and he knew it wouldn't be gone completely ever, especially since he had a whole life of memories including being bullied, called freaky, worthless and unloveable but he was better and he could only get better.

Finally he scrambled onto Santa's lap. He took a deep breath and waited for Lestrade to get into position. THen he began to whisper in Santa's ear not wanting to ruin the day for the other children.

"Santa...I know what you did, and I know why. But you can't steal things. It isn't right. What kind of example are you setting for your children?" He asked wincing as the man stiffened and looked down at him fearfully and a little anger.

"How did you...?" He trailed off realizing that he'd given it away.

"POlice!" Lestrade said from behind them, his voice carrying to them but not over the childrens. Santa stood suddenly holding Sherlock in front of him and whirling towards the detective and his back up. Sherlock was held in front like a shield. He winced when he heard John call out, but focused his attention on the man.

"Look you're in front of a bunch of kids right now, I see yours off in that corner right now looking on. Do you want them to see Santa, their father kidnapping child? You can get help from Detective Lestrade, but you need to go with him. Its Christmas, he's not unreasonable." SHerlock urged, reaching a shaking hand up and patting the man on his face. "We can get you guys food and real presents for your kids. Just please let them help." He knew the moment that the man gave in. He set Sherlock down carefully and patted him on the head.

"You're a good lad." He stated before stepping towards the police. Sherlock got there first.

"Uncle Dethecthive. He did ith because he has three freezing hungry kids. Iths Christhmas don'th be thoo hard on him.." He hesitated a moment seeing the wavering look on the man's face. "Call Mycrofth if you need this tho go away. Buth help them." Lestrade smiled down before patting him on the head.

"Alright kiddo, I'll do what I can."

"Good luck Mr Salvatore!" Sherlock chirped at the man before turning and skipping over to John who was standing and staring in disbelief, two cups clenched in his hands.

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John couldn't believe it when hearing the excited voices he turned with his cocoa. Santa was standing, Sherlock clutched in his arms, looking angry. Lestrade and another officer were standing hands held up peacefully. He knew it! He knew the bloody kid was on a case, he just didn't know that Lestrade was involved. He was striding towards the men, feeling steam coming out of his ears. Lestrade bloody well should have known better. Letting a kid get involved...then he had to shake his head. Sherlock wasn't really a kid. He had let him solve a murder why was this different. Seeing the man's grip on the boy who was talking frantically he realized it was because this time the boy was in danger. His brain was running deciding what he was going to do he noticed as Sherlock slipped gently from the man's arms. The man patted his head spoke something, Sherlock went up to Lestrade speaking urgently before turning and scanning the crowd. John had slowed and watched as the boys face brightened seeing him and he came skipping over, hand clasped over Hamish to make sure he didn't fall from his pocket.

"Thanks Daddy!" He grabbed his drink carefully from John and took a sip looking up eyes dancing with the after case thrill.

"So I knew you must have a case, got to say I wasn't aware Lestrade was involved." John said exasperatedly as he smiled at the boy in defeat.

"Ith was tho save Christhmas daddy!" He said matter of factly.

"Well is it alright if we go home now?" John was edgy and just wanted to get the boy away from here.

"Yea! I gottha help mummy frosth the cookies for Grandmum!" John grabbed the boy up and strode out rolling his eyes fondly at Lestrade who smiled shrugging sheepishly. He'd see him next week for Christmas and talk to him then.

The evening home was spent being regaled by the seven year old on the case, how he figured it out and what Lestrade had done to help the family. He had contacted Mycroft who had set up immediate housing for the family with heat, filling their cupboards and fridge and making sure there was a tree and plenty of presents for the three thin children. There would be no jail time, just a scolding to not let it happen again.

John thought that was the end of that until a few days later a letter for Sherlock came in the mail. The boy smiled as he read it looking up brightly.

"Iths from the Santha's kids. " He showed the note to John and Mary who looked down at it.

-Dear Sherlock! Thank you for saving our dad and our family. Thank you for the food and presents and heat. We keep you in our prayers and we'll never forget what you did for us. We drew you pictures to remember us by!

Love,

Tyler

Caroline

Elena-

Inside were three drawings clearly made by young children. Each was a christmas picture involving a person clearly meant to be Sherlock and Santa. In each Sherlock was wearing a hero's cape. They helped the bouncing child hang them on his wall and watched lovingly as he stared up at them in awe and wonder.

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Alright next chapter is going to be christmas day. Not sure if there will be a case or not but lots of chibi sherlock cuteness! R&amp;R!


	30. Chapter 30

DO NOT OWN!Thanks to madworld27 suggestion this chapter is changed just a bit but I think for the better :). Thanks to madworld27 and RaeofKlaine24 for the chapter ideas! I'm very excited to see where this story can go!

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Sherlock had been very secretive all week. He holed himself up in his room and wouldn't allow anyone in. The adults were unsure what he was doing but since there was a lack of weird smells and explosions they decided to allow him to have his secrets. It was the evening before Christmas Eve and the boy was once again in his room. John and Mary were cuddled on the couch sipping tea and listening to music playing through the flat. A fire was roaring away cheerfully the lights twinkling brightly. John took a deep breath and snuggled closer to his wife. It was nice to have his three favorite people surrounding him on the holiday. Last year had been such a mess what with Magnessun and the things going on with Mary. This year he had a happy Sherlock, a happy Mary and an ecstatic Mrs Hudson who was downstairs preparing pieces of their Christmas dinner right that moment. All in all it was to be a wonderful day. Lestrade and Sarah would be coming over for dinner, John's mother couldn't make it but she was calling to speak with Sherlock which he was very excited for.

Of course John should have known the peace wouldn't last. Mrs Hudson suddenly came quickly up the stairs.

"John, Sherlock's parents..." She was unable to finish her sentence as John watched Mr and Mrs Holmes push past her, the Mrs lips curling in disgust at the landlady.

"Where is..he." Mr Holmes said disdainfully.

"Who might you be looking for?" John stood eyes flashing. "You couldn't be looking for the boy you treated like trash and just dropped."

"Do not give me your attitude sir. That thing deserved everything given to him. As it is I'll have to beat some manners into him you no doubt let slide before the party tomorrow."

John felt rage welling in him as he fought to push it back. He stood getting in the taller man's face.

"You aren't going anywhere with him. He is my son, and your getting the fuck out of my house!" He could feel anger boiling over as the man just smirked at him.

"How exactly are you going to stop us? We have the British Government on our side."

"He'd be here if he agreed with this." John spat.

Holmes' eyes suddenly hardened. "We need the freak for a Christmas party, I may be able to strike an important deal. You can have him back afterwards if you really want. I don't see why you would. You'll probably discover how much better your life is when he's gone for a couple days."

John's heart dropped as behind the man and his wife he watched SHerlock walking down the hallway quietly, Hamish tucked under his arm, his face sad but otherwise unreadable. He caught John's eye and the man saw anger spark in his eyes.

"I'm noth going anywhere with you!" The boy piped up causing the Holmes' to jump and whirl. The man strode towards the boy menacingly John went after him but stopped hesitantly at a tiny shake of Sherlocks head. The man stopped towering over his son.

"YOu will do what I say you worthless piece of garbage or I'll lock you in the basement for the next week." He hissed hand reaching out and gripping the boys arm.

"I'm noth going with you. I won'th do anything for you or with you. You aren'th my father, she isn'th my mother and you never were!" His voice raised a bit, especially when the hand tightened on his arm. "You are the worthless ones. Treating your children like throphies insthead of people. You are crazy and Mycrofth won'th leth you geth away with this." He stood as tall as he could lip quivering, clear fear in his face as he looked up into his biological fathers eyes. "You repel me!" He hissed out, with a sudden moment he kicked out with his right foot catching Holmes' senior in the knee. The man, surprised yelped and let go of the child who ducked past him and the reach of Mrs Holmes taking off down the stairs two at a time.

"Sherlock!" John yelled trying to rush after him but blocked by Senior Holmes who attempted to reach the stairs himself. John, panicking stuck out a foot and tripped the other man. His long limbs whirled as he went tumbling, swearing as he went down. John heard the front door open and slam shut. He swore himself, turning to his cell and putting in the number he had for their favorite government official.

"John?" Mycrofts clipped tone came on immediately.

"Your parents are here trying to take Sherlock." John hissed angrily. "Now he's run off, get here and make them leave."

Mycroft's voice if possible went chillier. "On my way." He hung up and John tucked his phone away, turning at the two people pacing angrily in the doorway.

"We're not leaving until we get him." Mrs Holmes snapped at Mary who was glaring angrily at them.

"Well you are leaving our house and you aren't taking Sherlock anywhere." She strode and got in the other woman's face, eyes flashing. "I will protect him from the likes of you two."

Mrs Holmes smirked. "Why do you fight so hard to protect him? He is a freak and a disappointment. He's rude, unable to understand social norms, he does ridiculous experiments and acts smarter than the adults around him. He is nothing but a way to make money. We'll even pay you to borrow him for a few days."

John watched Mary's eyes get red and she opened her mouth to speak but another voice interrupted hers.

"Sherlock is a person. He was a child and is a child and deserved to be treated as such." It was Mycroft. His face was as impassive as always but his voice was angry. "I couldn't stop you from hurting him back then and I've regretted it everyday, especially when he turned to drugs as a way to feel better. You bullied him, the kids at school bullied him, his colleagues bully him, the people at Uni. Because of you! He never learned how to be social because you were too busy locking him away and hurting him. Luckily this time I can stop you." He walked up to them, his umbrella twirling in his hand. "You will leave London, you will leave Sherlock, John, Mary and Myself in piece. If you contact them, or come back I will make you disappear." His eyes blazed. "Permanently."

"I made you!" Mr Holmes snapped. "You can't do this."

"NO father you taught me how not to be. Unfortunately I took it too far. I don't let people close and that is the cross I have to bear. But Sherlock never got rid of his humanity. Inside he is still as kind, gentle and giving as he always was. He grew to have a sharp tongue and to hide his heart away so as not to get hurt. But its there and he shows it with every case he solves. You didn't make us, you didn't even break us. Now get out!"

Mr Holmes made towards his son breathing heavily with anger. He stopped suddenly as a few suited guards walked in cracking their knuckles. Turning once to look at Mary and John he sneered before gripping his wife's arm.

"Come, there is nothing worth our time here." He strode out nose in the air. John ran to the window and watched them as they got in their car and drove off out of sight.

"Thanks for coming Mycroft but I've got to find Sher...lock." He'd been running frantically when Sherlock popped out from behind his brother, cheeks pink from the cold smiling wide.

"Hi daddy! I found Mycrofth!"

John cracked a smile and swooped the boy in his arms twirling him, lightened by the giggles that came with it. He placed kisses all over the boys face.

"You don't listen to them! You are perfect, amazing and worth everything in this world." He ignored the fact Mycroft was there while he was talking with Sherlock. The boy needed to be reassured that those people were wrong and he shouldn't listen to a thing they say. Sherlock hugged him around the neck grinning brilliantly at him. Before turning to his brother.

"Are you coming for Christhmas My?"

Mycroft twirled his umbrella a bit more.

"Sherlock I told you, you have a good thing going here. I will help you on the sidelines when needed, but you need a new life and that doesn't include a piece of your old one." He walked towards the boy who was looking sadly at him. In a fit of sentiment he placed a gentle hand on the dark curls. "I care for you and I worry constantly but this is better for you. When we find the cure, if you still want me around we will figure something out. But take this chance to be the child you should be without your damaged older brother." He shushed Sherlock who went to open his mouth. "I am damaged, but it is ok I have built a life I am happy with. You were never happy with that life, you need people too much. Now you have them. Enjoy."

Sherlock nodded a bit and looked on silently as Mycroft turned and waved his body guards away. He turned and nodded once to the three of them before disappearing out of the flat once more. Sherlock stared at the spot he disappeared for a long moment before finally shaking himself and turning once more to hug his daddy.

"Thanks for prothecthing me." He whispered.

"Always." John rumbled before passing the child on to Mary who was standing itching to hold him in her arms. He lay hugging her for a long moment before his eyes widened and he wriggled down.

"I have to finish what I was doing!" He gasped and took off to his room. The adults simply laughed and went back to the couch.

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Ok promise next chapter will be Christmas Eve and Christmas. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews and favorites. I'm very glad that I could write something that people enjoy. Please continue to R&amp;R!


	31. Chapter 31

DO NOT OWN! Here is the Christmas Eve/Christmas Day chapter. Enjoy :)

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Christmas Eve came early for John and Mary. There were last minute planning to be done for "Santa's" visit that night. With Sherlock being more observant than well everyone else they ever met put together, it took a lot of planning to figure out exactly what to do. Finally they decided on a bunch of activities they could take the boy on so that he would be well worn out by that evening. Along with some major exercise, a warm glass of cocoa and some bedtime stories they were hoping he would be sufficiently knocked out. Then they were planning on putting some blankets down in front of the crack at the bottom of his bedroom door to muffle any sounds. Then it would be time for "Operation Santa's Visit" to commence. The two of them giggled at the title, with their background everything had to be named Operation something. Finally satisfied with their planning they dressed and headed down to begin breakfast and begin the day.

Just as the smells of bacon and eggs were wafting around the flat, they heard Sherlock's door burst open. They heard a little mumbling and grumbling as the boy stumbled down the hall. Turning they noticed he had a pile of packages balanced in his arms, tongue sticking out as he concentrated on walking without them falling. Hamish gazed out, rather smugly it almost seemed, from the top of the pile.

"Would you like some help Lock?" John asked moving towards him.

"No thanks daddy!" Sherlock said quickly dodging around the man and finally tripping the last few steps to the tree and barely managing to catch himself before crashing into it. "Ith's presenths for everyone including you. You can'th thouch them unthil thomorow." He gave John a smirk at that. John shook his head smiling a bit.

They had told Sherlock the same thing when presents started appearing under the tree for everyone. He'd gone to reach for one of his own, reverently.

"There are presenths...for me?" He'd looked up at Mary and John with awe and disbelief. While it tugged at their heartstrings, they knew better than to allow him to touch them or he would guess immediately what he'd gotten. As it was they had wrapped things with rocks, or vastly different sized boxes than they needed too. Just to keep the surprise as long as possible. Sherlock had agreed not to touch anything and had taken to staring at the tree disbelievingly every so often.

"Well we can't guess the present's like you can." John tweaked the boys nose." But we did make you swear not to touch yours so its only fair we do the same." Sherlock had had a look of nervousness on his face, as if he expected John to refuse but smiled brightly at the man's words. He began to hum Rudolph as he busily put the presents in and around the tree. Finished he turned and ran over to John silently asking to be picked up.

John obliged and took a cursory glance at the boys cast arm. He was using it as much as he could with a cast. The man had gotten him to take it easy as long as he could, which was several weeks longer than the adult Sherlock would have listened, everything seemed to be fine, so John kept quiet as long as he wasn't overdoing it much.

He bounced Sherlock a bit to elicit another giggle before placing him in his chair and going to sit at his own. Mary was already seated with full plates at everyone's seat.

"Morning mummy!" Sherlock said as he began to dig into his eggs, with just a dash of ketchup on the side. John dug into his own eggs with ketchup while Mary just rolled her eyes at them.

"Men.." She said under her breath before turning back to Sherlock."Good Morning love, make sure you tuck in. We have a big day planned today and your going to want to be feeling strong and energetic!" She said with a small smile.

Sherlock simply nodded looking curious but way to hungry to bother questioning at the moment. From there breakfast was quiet except Sherlock offering Hamish a piece of bacon and a sip of his juice. The adults smiled adoringly at him as he talked to his stuffed friend. Sherlock turned red but had long since gotten used to the fact that they wouldn't berate him for speaking with his bee.

With everything finished, dishes washed and put away and Sherlock dressed in his favorite suit the day was officially about to begin.

"Alright Sherlock, first we need to go to the market and get a few last minute things for dinner tomorrow for Mrs Hudson." Sherlock bit his lip knowing it would be very busy but nodded his head none the less. They knew that was a true testament to the boys trust in them, that he would allow them to bring him in such a crowded area and trust that they would keep him safe. John helped him into his jacket, hat and gloves, making sure Hamish was tucked deep in the boys pocket before letting them out onto the street.

Sherlock glanced at them confused as they walked past the car down the sidewalk, but shrugged and skipped after his parents, chattering away about the lights and decorations and the ones he was hoping they could have next year. They simply smiled warmly at the fact he was already planning a next year, that he finally believed they weren't going to drop him or leave him behind. The store was three blocks down and John and Mary kept up a fast pace so that the boy almost had to run to keep up. He didn't seem to mind as his eyes crinkled in laughter and his cheeks pink from the cool air, glowed merrily as he pranced along beside them.

When they did reach the store, John immediately scooped the boy up before going military mode and striding through the crowd. They seemed to sense the presence of the captain, and the ex assassin because between him and Mary they got through the crowd and the store rather quickly. Grabbing the fixings for homeaide cocoa, eggs, and sour cream they made their way to the front of the store.

The lines were rather long and tempers were high for the most part. But all they needed to do was look at Sherlock's shining face to relax and know that getting angry wasn't worth it. When they got to the counter, the teenage girl squealed a bit at the sight of Sherlock.

"Why he's just like a little bumblebee." She caught sight of Hamish. "Oh and he has a friend too. What's his name?" She asked Sherlock kindly.

Sherlock blinked shyly looking at John who nodded encouragingly. "Hamish." He answered quietly.

"What an adorable name!" She finished scanning and gave them a total. "OH before I forget!" Rummaging on her counter she picked up a candy cane and held it out to Sherlock. "Merry Christmas to you and Hamish." She smiled brightly at him. Sherlock hesitantly took the candy cane before beaming back.

"Merry Christhmas Rachel!" He responded glancing at her nametag. She waved at him and said goodbye to the adults before turning to the next customers. Moving out of the store, John placed Sherlock back on the ground and shifted the bags in his arms. They headed back towards the flat and watched as Sherlock gripped the candy cane, looking down at it every once in a while in awe.

Finally reaching the flat, they passed the items along to Mrs Hudson who immediately shooed them back out of her flat saying she had a lot of work to do and they needn't be under foot. Sherlock giggled at his grand mum.

"Well then next stop I think." John said winking at Mary as Sherlock studied them closely.

"The park?!" He asked excitedly. The boy had found out that the colder it got outside the less kids were at the park and he actually enjoyed playing outside when no one was around that he was afraid would bully him."I'll be right back!" He ran up the stairs and they heard him crashing about in his room before coming back down the stairs. Noticeably slower this time.

John grinned as he saw why. Sherlock was carrying his plastic pirate sword and had his eye patch in hand along with his pirate hat on. There had been a situation with Sherlock running with the sword that almost resulted in a bad injury. As such John and sat him down and firmly told him he was not to run in the house, especially with his sword. Sherlock had taken it to heart.

"Very good." John mumbled patting the boys head who looked up at him adoringly. Letting themselves back inside John decided to take the car this time. The park was quite a few blocks further away and when it was time for lunch they'd want a quick warm way back to the flat before their next activities.

As expected the park was calm and quiet. Sherlock jumped out of the car and ran ahead stopping every once and a while to study something on the ground before moving on. John and Mary grabbed a blanket they kept in the car and went to cuddle together on a bench as they watched the happy little boy play. Sherlock had placed Hamish on the ground with a small plastic dagger John had gotten that he said was just the bee's sword size. Then he put on his eye patch and hat before using his good arm to swing his sword around.

"Avasth Capthain Hamish! I be thaking over Capthainship. This here be a muthiny!" He danced around the bee twisting and turning his sword as if in a long fight. "There be no escaping ith! Surrender now and ye can be the besth mathe!" A little more dancing and parrying before Sherlock finally stopped dead a blank look on his face. "Arggh mathey you goth me!" He stumbled around dramatic. "Me thinks I'm bleeding outh, oh the agony!" He stumbled a bit and tumbled to his knees. "Why Capthain Hamish? We could have been greath thogether." Then he lay down completely still for a long moment.

John was just thinking he should tell the boy to get up before he caught a cold, when said child jumped up and ran forward with his sword straight out. "Ith was all a lie! I was wearing a sword proof vesth! There is so such a thing!" He stopped and dropped his sword moving his eye pathch up on his face. "Is so! Is so!" He paced around glaring at Hamish a bit. John and Mary tried valiantly to hold back giggles. "Well iths my prethend game Hamish and I say there are sword proof vesths!" The adults lost it falling on each other as they burst out laughing, the sound echoing around the park.

"S'noth funny daddy!" Sherlock whined. "He wasn'th playing righth." THey just laughed harder at his dramatic words. "Fine then." He pouted a bit before grabbing Hamish and the swords. He walked over and placed the swords carefully next to the guffawing adults before turning his back on them and running over to the swings. He began speaking to Hamish again, only this time in french and when he caught the adults looking he stuck his tongue out at them before smiling and pushing his bee gently in the swing.

They'd been there for a few hours when John, watching Sherlock playing in the sandbox, noticed the boy begin to shiver. He glanced at his watch, it was afternoon already and they had to have lunch before they could do the big thing they had planned.

"Sherlock, time to go!" Sherlock peeked up debating on whether he could get away with arguing or not. John held himself stiffly and gave a stern look, hoping it would convince the boy. Apparently it worked, for Sherlock bounced up and grabbed Hamish before running over to the adults. Mary grabbed his swords, while John wrapped him in the blanket and lifted him bringing him to the car.

John watched in the rearview mirror and silently cheered as he watched Sherlock struggle to keep his eyes open. Their plan was working, if they kept him busy for the rest of the afternoon he'd be ready to sleep soundly by bedtime. He kept a close eye to make sure the boy didn't fall asleep yet. They made it to 221B without the boy dozing off and went upstairs.

Lunch was a quick sandwich with apple slices and milk. Sherlock sat eating slowly and lazily, his eyes on the tree with a small smile on his face.

"Daddy." He said abruptly looking very seriously at John, who passed his empty plate to Mary and gave the child his full attention. "Do you- will- *sigh* Santha's never come tho see me before. They said ith was cuz I was bad. BUth you say I'm noth." He looked up eyes tortured and much more adult than usual. JOhn knew in that moment that both the child and the adult in Sherlock was asking if he was a bad person, if he was worthless and unlovable like everyone had him believing.

John stood and went around the table to kneel next to the boy, who looked at him shyly shaking a bit. He took the tiny hand in his own, and studied him a moment. The boy was finally filling out. Not quite normal weight for his age but certainly closer than he'd ever been. They had done this, they had saved the boy physically and they were beginning to mentally. But it would be a long road and they would have to reassure him over and over, often taking steps back before they could continue forward. But that was alright. John was a soldier and a doctor and this was his best friend, his child and he would do whatever it took for the child, and man to understand his worth and how much he was loved.

"Santa didn't come because your parents didn't allow him too. It wasn't because you were bad, but because they were. We have already written to Santa and made sure he knew that he was welcome here. He told us he had a few Christmas's to make up for." Secretly John had contacted Mycroft to see what Sherlock had wanted in past Christmas's to see if it was anything a boy of almost eight would still be interested in. Unsurprisingly there were quite a few things. They had gotten the boy a good haul deciding he needed to be thoroughly spoiled for once and couldn't wait to see his face the next day. "You are kind hearted, sweet, good boy." He emphasized each word as he said them. "YOu will get a visit, I promise." The boy gave him a crooked grin before hugging his neck and turning back to his lunch.

After their talk he ate much faster, offering Hamish some apple before finally standing up and bringing his plate to Mary at the sink. As the dishes were being washed, he wandered into the living room and stared out the window, a gentle smile on his face, his brain definitely moving a mile a minute. They left him be as they finished cleaning and made up some hot chocolate to put in a thermos.

Finally they had three thermos's full, glancing at the time John realized it was four. Time to get this show on the road.

"Sherlock we've got something else planned for today." Mary said moving over to stand behind the boy, stroking his curls gently. The boy leaned back into her reveling in the kind touch he never seemed to get enough of.

"Whath's thath mummy?" He nearly purred at her looking up curiously with his blue green eyes.

"We're going to join Sarah, Uncle Greg, Auntie Sally and Anderson for Christmas carols around their neighborhood." THey'd decided on Lestrade's neighborhood because it had actual houses and was safer than wandering around Baker Street with all the cars and apartment buildings.

"YAY! We can sing Rudolph!" He began to run but skidded to a hault looking at them worriedly. "We can sing thath one righth?"

"Of course we can love." She responded as he sighed in relief and dashed downstairs to throw on his jacket again jabbering to Hamish.

88

They met the others at Lestrade's house. Sherlock had suddenly gone shy on them and was huddled behind John's knee, gripping his pants in his good hand and peaking out. The adults all grinned at him, while Sarah ran over immediately. Without missing a beat, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. John turned and watched as he flinched looking wide eyed. But to his credit, he didn't pull away and after a moment relaxed a bit to return the hug. HIs cheeks flared bright pink as he saw all the adults chuckling at them. Finally Sarah pulled away and he just looked at her dumbfounded.

"You act like you've never been hugged before." She stated confused.

"Sarah!" Lestrade scolded gently. "That's impolite."

"Ith's ok." SHerlock mumbled before looking at her. "Mummy, Daddy and somethimes grand mum do. Buth no one else ever wanthed tho. Especially noth a kid."

She looked at him even more confused. "BUt why not? You're very cute and very nice."

"Sarah!"

Sherlock ignored the adults and took a breath before responding again. "They say I'm a freak and weird looking and noth very nice ath all."

The adults were taken back by the tears in her eyes as she dove in for another hug. "Well they were just stupid..." She appeared to be reaching for other words. "Stupid heads!" SHe said at last. "You're really smart and brave how does that make anyone a freak? Sounds to me like they were the ones that were freaks!" SHe stated firmly. Sherlock's cheeks flamed even redder as he stared in wonder at the other child before him.

John noticed as Donovan and Anderson shifted uncomfortably as they looked at the accepting child, before catching the other man's gaze.

"From the mouth of babes." He stated not unkindly. They smiled at him hesitantly before nodding.

When Sarah pulled back again, she grabbed Sherlock's good hand and tugged him towards the adults. He allowed it and gripped her hand in return, staring at their connection bemused.

"Can we go caroling now daddy? Pleaaaase!" She flashed her eyelashes at him. He rolled his eyes.

"Wrapped around her finger I tell you..." He muttered. "Yes I think its best we begin." He said louder, she cheered before dragging Sherlock down the sidewalk. The boy looked back at John questioningly.

"Go ahead." The man said encouragingly. "Just not to far ahead." Sherlock gave into the tugging and they reached the first house several minutes before the rest of them.

"What should we sing first?" Mary asked the group.

"LEt Sherlock choose, he told me he's never caroled before." They looked expectantly at the small boy who muttered something quietly as he looked at the ground.

"What did you say sweetheart?" Donovan asked Sherlock took a deep breath before looking up at her. "Rudolph please."

"Oh that's my favorite mate!" Sherlock looked startled at Anderson's outburst before grinning at the man. He skipped forward shyness forgotten for the moment.

"Me tho Uncle Anderson!" John saw Anderson blink back suspicious tears at the christening of Uncle to his name. He reached out a hand to the boy who took it and pulled him to the front of the group. Then as if a silent conductor was at work they all began to sing, voices pouring together in a harmony that can only truly happen at Christmas time.

88

They had gone caroling for a couple hours and stopped back at Lestrade's for dinner and hot chocolate. It was finally time for all good little children to go to bed. Sherlock was nearly asleep on his feet. He absently gave everyone a hug without thinking about it as he normally would before turning and rubbing his eye he looked at Mary.

"Up?" He whispered quietly. Mary looked at John shocked before looking at the boy again. She often picked him up but only if JOhn wasn't around. He was his go too. Noticing that the boy was beginning to get unsure of himself, she reached down and gently grabbed him. Snuggling him close to her, he sighed and tucked his face under her chin arms wrapped loosely around her neck.

"Goodnight." She whispered as she followed her husband out into the dark. They loaded into the car, Mary sitting in the back to keep Sherlock awake. She asked him silly little questions of what he saw on the way home. His eyes were drooping but he did keep awake and answer her, his voice thick with sleep.

At home they brought the tired boy into the bathroom giving him a quick bath and coaxing him into brushing his teeth. After reminding them to leave out milk and cookies, slowly he did as bid, before they picked him up and carted him into his bedroom. Already in his pj's they tucked him snugly into his bed with Hamish at his side. He blinked owlishly at them.

"Sthory?" He slurred a bit.

"Of course love." JOhn responded already holding a book in hand. He settled on one side as Mary settled on the other. He opened the book and began to read.

-Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house...-

Sherlock's eyes stayed open until the very last part of the story, a small smile upon his lips.

-...Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!-

John slowly closed the book reaching out a hand and pushing the curls gently off Sherlock's forehead before leaning down and placing a kiss. Mary followed suit.

"Love you." THe boy slurred once more as he finally gave in and allowed his eyes to slide shut. His breathing immediately deepened and John and Mary gave each other victorious looks before tiptoeing out of the room and shutting the door. Phase one complete.

Mary grabbed a couple of blankets and put them down in front of the door, giving a thumbs up before heading upstairs to grab the rest of "their" presents to Sherlock. John quietly went down the stairs and out the door. Glancing up at the windows a couple times we went down the sidewalk and knocked on a door. Mrs Turner, Mrs Hudson's friend answered it and looked at him brightly.

"Ah got the boy tucked in then?" John nodded. "Good, that detective fellow is here with the suit so come on in and lets get started."

John grinned as he sped down the hall, meeting Lestrade in one of the empty apartments. On the bed next to the man was a full Santa suit.

"Ready mate?" LEstrade asked brightly. John nodded and while Lestrade went out to help Mrs Turner get things together JOhn began to change.

They had decided to have John dress as Sherlock and deliver the presents. They kept them at Mrs Turners so Sherlock would have no chance of finding them, especially one particular present. They hoped that even if by chance Sherlock woke to movement in the flat, that he would be sleepy enough that John as Santa could dart away and he would be none the wiser. It wasn't easy to fool the most observant person anyone would probably ever meet but they wanted this day to be special and they would try everything they could.

Finally suited up, beard and hat in place and pillows tied under his suit for extra padding, he waddled out into the hallway. A huge sack of presents and a box with a handle stood waiting for him. Lestrade picked up the sack and handed John the box. He would help him to 221B, from there John was on his own.

Slowly John made his way up the stairs, careful of the box and its precious contents. He placed that down first in plain sight, then pulling packages out of the bag he cluttered it around the tree. Mary had already finished placing the others and was upstairs in bed, to make this more believable. John kept an ear out but heard no movement from Sherlock's room as the last presents were placed.

He stood cracking his back and taking one last look around. Satisfied he turned to go and caught sight of a little figure. The casted hand was holding Hamish's wing while the other was rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Santa?" Sherlock asked groggily. His eyes were nearly shut and John almost thought he must be sleepwalking. Swearing in his head he attempted to deepen his voice.

"HO HO HO! Merry Christmas Sherlock." He said kindly. Sherlock gave him a vague smile.

"Merry Christhmas Santha." He said back. "I justh...I was hoping I could ask you for something. YOu can thake all the other presenths back if you wanth." John looked at him concerned but asked cheerfully nonetheless.

"And what would that be?"

"I justh...I know thath John and Mary are sthill upseth abouth their well the baby they losth. THey wanth me tho think I'm a good well noth replacementh buth justh as good as the baby would have been...buth I'm noth. I'm older and freaky and a litthle broken because of my pasth. Plus soon I'll probably be an adulth again. I justh...could you make a miracle happen Santha?" They boys eyes were still squinched nearly shut. John felt his breath tighten in his throat. Jesus he didn't realize that Sherlock felt like this.

Sure they still missed their baby, but in the end they had decided it was probably for the best. They were adrenaline junkies and they had Sherlock. Child or adult he needed someone to look after him and take care of him because he'd never had it before and in many ways he was naive to the world. They had decided that was plenty for them and hadn't regretted that decision since.

Deciding to risk it, he moved forward and lifted the sleepy boy who placed his head down on his shoulder.

"Smell like pepperminth and snow. Musth be the North Pole." The boy slurred, John was ever grateful that there had been scented candles lit.

"That's right little one." He said gruffly carrying the boy into his room and placing him on the bed. He slowly tucked the blankets around the boy once more. "Sherlock." He said. The boy hummed in response. "John and Mary love you with all their hearts. You are their child and they have no interest in another. All they asked for from me this Christmas was that you would always want them to be your mummy and daddy."

Sherlock perked up a bit. "Really?"

"Yes. You are the only child htey want, and I daresay when you are an adult again you will still have a fussing mummy and daddy to contend with."

"I'd like that." He mumbled his words getting farther apart as he began to drift off once more. John took his limp hand. "You are loved, and you are their whole world. You always will be, don't forget it. YOu were hurt in the past and I'm sorry no one could help you then. But believe that you won't be hurt again. They have opened their hearts to you wholly, open your heart to them and you will never regret it."

"Thanks Santha." The boy sighed out. "Merry Christhmas." He rolled clearly sleeping again. John watched him sleep for quite a while, mulling over their conversation. He was going to give up his presents, his first Santa christmas because he thought they wanted a different child. On the one hand it was very sweet and just as selfless as they had discovered Sherlock to be under his gruff exterior...but did that mean they had failed to make him feel special? He mulled it over but finally shook his head as he realized how late it was getting.

No, he knew getting 30 years of physical and emotional abuse worked through was going to be a tough life long project. Sherlock was happy, he knew that he was. They just had to be patient. That settled, he went out gently closing the door and gathered the empty sack before letting himself back out onto the street. He saw Lestrade pacing up and down and grinned sheepishly at the man.

"Sorry Greg, he woke up and well...we had an interesting conversation." He saw the man studying him.

"What happened?"

"He asked Santa to take all his presents back so we could have a miracle...we could have the child we "really" wanted."

"Jesus." Lestrade swore shaking his head.

"Yea well, I told him that the Watsons had the child they wanted and that even when he was an adult again that they'd still be his mum and dad." John smiled a bit at the memory. "He seemed to like that."

The two of them went up the street in silence after that. John changed quickly shaking Greg's hand and kissing Mrs Turner gently on the cheek. He went back home and climbed the stairs. Checking on Sherlock, he saw that the boy was right where Santa had left him. He began to leave but paused when he saw a glowing golden light on the stand that hadn't been there before. Walking closer he peered at it. It was a snowglobe, that seemed to be glowing from within itself. Snow swirled within it, even without it being shook, a note was attached to the side and John gasped when he finally made out the words.

-Merry Christmas to my dear Sherlock. You deserve all the love and happiness given to you.

Love, Santa Claus-

Blinking he backed out of the room and went up to his own to go to sleep. Clearly he was overtired.

88

The morning began by John starting awake. He glanced around confused, wondering what woke him. Mary was in bed next to him. She looked up at him and grinned pressing a finger to her lip before pointing at the door. He glanced over and had to smirk. He could just make out Sherlock standing outside the door. He was whispering but even so John could hear him.

"No Hamish, can'th wake them up."

John glanced at the clock. Seven am, he was impressed that the boy had lasted this long before drifting his way upstairs. He could remember Harry and himself being on their parents bed at four am each Christmas morning. Smiling the two adults decided to take pity on the boy and sat up.

"We're up love." He called gently. Sherlock peeked inside and smiled widely. He ran in Hamish and something else clenched in his hand.

"Daddy mummy guess whath?!

"What dear?" Mary asked.

"I talked tho Santha lasth nighth! He thucked me intho bed and said I was special tho you guys and thath you didn'th wanth tho replace me!" He looked at them excitedly but expectantly.

"Well Santa always tells the truth." Mary said her eyes twinkling.

"Oh and he left me this." Sherlock showed them the globe that was still snowing and the note attached to it.

"Wow that's impressive!" John said surprise coloring his voice. He'd been so sure that had been a dream. "Why don't you go down and sit on the couch. We'll be down in a moment alright?"

"Ok daddy, mummy!" He started to run out the door but turned at the last moment. "Merry Christhmas!" He turned and they heard him thunder down the stairs, calling to Mrs Hudson, who answered back cheerily.

"Got him a snowglobe?" John asked his wife who cocked her head at him.

"No I assumed that was you."

John shook his head. "I talked to him and tucked him in bed, but that globe was there after I got back from Mrs Turners the second time."

The two adults stared at each other, could it be?

Deciding it was a mystery that wouldn't be solved they let it go and threw on their house robes. Going downstairs they saw Sherlock sitting patiently on the couch, eyeing the handled box intently. The two of them held back smirks as they went in and started tea for themselves and cocoa for Sherlock. John started some cinnamon buns in the oven and they carried the drinks out. At this point Mrs Hudson was sitting on the couch next to the child cuddling him close. His eyes were half lidded as he leaned against her comfortably. WHen his parents came into the room he sat up gently.

"Are you ready for Christmas Sherlock?" JOhn asked gently, sure that he had lost his sight to the blinding smile the curly haired boy gave him.

"Yes! You firsth!" Sherlock started to bounce over to the tree but John stopped him smiling.

"Stockings first." Sherlock blinked at him before looking at the four filled stockings at the fireplace and sitting back down again. John grabbed each of them and passed them out. Waiting for the adults to start, Sherlock finally reached slowly into the stocking and began to pull things out. The adults stopped to watch as he began to gasp in delight. He pulled out a set of cards that had an element of the periodic table on each one, he pulled out a collar blinked at it and set it aside before pulling out a package of crayon's, a handful of candy canes, Sour Patch Kids, and a huge chocolate bar.

He waited patiently as the adults finished, before bounding to the tree once more. He grabbed three gifts from the tree and handed one to each of the adults before sitting again and bouncing.

Mrs Hudson opened hers first and let out a gasp of delight. Inside was large homemade cook book. Looking inside she saw that Sherlock had painstakingly copied out each recipe that they had done together over the months. She noticed there was plenty of room for many more. Turning with tearful eyes she hugged the boy close.

"This is the sweetest thing I've ever received. We'll have to fill it up some more after Christmas hmm?"

"Yes please!" He responded before turning to Mary expectantly.

She stopped and stared when she finally opened her present. Inside was a picture of her parents, her real parents from long ago, before they died and she became an orphaned assassin. The frame was decorated with different craft items and she blinked back tears as she looked at the thoughtful boy in front of her. She stood and made her way over to him. He glanced at her trying to judge her reaction, as she pulled him into a hug.

"Sherlock this is just...how did you?...YOu're amazing love." She kissed the top of his head and stroked his hair for a moment, he leaned into it before hugging her and turning to John. Mary unable to peel herself away from the boy who had stolen her heart she watched too, cuddling him close.

John opened his package slowly and let out a slow breath. He'd also received a picture. He, Harry, his mother, and father were all laughing together. It was the last time he could remember them all being happy. He'd been ten, his sister fourteen, right before she'd discovered drinking and girls. They'd gone to the ocean and they were standing arm in arm in front of the sunset, beaming happily. HIs frame was wood burned with designs.

"Sherlock..." His voice cracked and he simply picked the boy up and whirled him around in response.

Setting the giggling boy down, he turned towards the tree.

"You're turn I think." He pretended to dig through the presents, until he reached the handled box. He brought it over.

"This appears to be to you from Santa."

Sherlock grinned brightly and reached open to snap open the doors of the box. He looked inside and grinned happily. He clicked his fingers and cooed softly. After several moments, a tiny black kitten came walking out. Sherlock giggled as she stepped in her water dish and food dish on the way to his lap. She sat and stared up at him before wandering up on his shoulder and settling down for a nap. Her tongue rasped over his ear causing him to giggle delightedly as she purred herself to sleep.

Sherlock looked at his family in awe. "Santha goth me a kitthen! I always wanthed one." Mycroft had been sure to mention that was one thing he'd asked for every year. After talking with Mrs Hudson they'd worked it out.

"Well I'll be, what a sweet little girl." John said. "Do you know what you will name her?"

"Rose." Sherlock said promptly. John simply smiled, Sherlock did like Doctor Who and Rose was his favorite companion.

"A very nice name." Mary approved.

The rest of the morning went on like this, each passing around presents. They took a quick break for cinnamon rolls before continuing. By the end of the morning Sherlock had quite a haul. Several chemistry books, a kitten care guide, (he'd already placed the collar from his stocking on her she'd stared at him before falling back to sleep), a kids chemistry set that made things such as bubblegum, fizzy drinks and gummy candy, a jumper just like John's which he had immediately put on. A brand new suit, a few more kids books, a mystery and a couple seasons of Doctor Who.

He went around, careful of Rose who seemed happiest on his shoulder, to hug everyone and thank them. It was time then for presents to be put away, for dressing and getting lunch prepared. Lestrade, Sarah, Donovan and Anderson were all going to be there soon with their own presents. Sherlock carefully carried everything to his room and put it in its proper places. John and Mary were puttering around getting items ready for lunch when he came proudly out.

John smiled flattered when he saw that rather than his normal suit, Sherlock had put on a pair of black slacks and kept on the jumper. The kitten was now sprawled across the back of his neck under his curls. Front feet and back feet curled around his neck as if to hang on. WIth him he carried a coloring book and his new pack of crayons. He sat at the table near John, who was peeling potato's and quietly began to draw.

The morning went on this way until eleven when the doorbell rang and people began to appear. Soon it was time for presents again. Sherlock was excited to get a few more coloring books, especially a doctor who one that Donovan had searched long and hard for. A kids forensic kit from Anderson, a friendship bracelet from Sarah, which made him blush from head to toe. He seemed really excited for what Lestrade had given him however.

It was a harness holster, much like many detectives used to hide guns under their jackets. Except Lestrade had made up a little pouch attached to it for Sherlock to buckle in Hamish.

His eyes twinkled as he explained to the excited boy. "I notice he often nearly fall out of your pocket so this way he can be with you but there's no fear of losing him. Throwing away any shyness, Sherlock pounced at the man hugging him tightly before immediately putting it on and buckling Hamish into place. He was interrupted briefly by a hug from Sarah as she opened her present from him. He'd found a bee just like Hamish for her, only a girl (he had said). She was careful not to hit Rose as she hugged him close.

"Thank you Sherlock! I think I"ll name her Mary. Cuz you named yours after your daddy and you said your mummy helped you find her. They'll be best friends now like we are." Sherlock simply hugged her back beaming brightly, as Mary flicked a couple of tears away.

The rest of the day went very nicely. They all sat down to a large meal courtesy of Mrs Hudson. ROse continued to sleep on Sherlock's shoulders, only moving to use her brand new kitty box and have her own Christmas meal (Sherlock slipped several pieces of ham to her). When dinner was finished they ended up playing several boardgames and laughing well into the evening.

When everyone was finally off, flat was cleaned, Sherlock was bathed and in his pj's they crowded into his bedroom, Rose sleeping on the pillow next to his head. He picked out one of his new reading books, "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. IT was the perfect end to the perfect day as John began telling Sherlock the adventures of a boy not completely unlike himself.

\- Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much...-

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Well that was waaay longer than I expected. I hope that it was alright. I put a lot more elements into it than I was planning...like globe from Santa XD. Next is New Years Eve. R&amp;R!


	32. Chapter 32

DO NOT OWN! New Years Eve brings some interesting new issues for Sherlock and family.

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John and Mary were very excited, it was New Years Eve and they couldn't wait to spend the evening watching fireworks and count down the end of the year with Sherlock. The boy did not seem over excited for the festivities but was very pleased that he was able to stay up with his mother and father. Later they would look back and wonder if he was just a bit too excited, and clingy.

But for the moment John sat in his chair reading the paper, Sherlock sat at his feet with Hamish in his lap quietly reading one of his mystery books from Christmas. Mary and Mrs Hudson sat on the couch whispering between themselves as the older woman attempted to teach the younger the finer parts of crocheting. John knew that they were attempting to double team something for Sherlock's birthday coming up in the week. It seemed to be going fairly well considering Mary was a beginner.

The day wore on, they made a lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches and elicited a grin from the unusually quiet boy. Really, at the time they thought nothing of it, he'd had a busy few weeks. Especially trying with someone suffering from social anxiety. John wondered how adult Sherlock had managed it. Looking back on a lot of his behaviors he knew that the anxiety wasn't just something he was experiencing this time around.

After lunch John picked up a book, while the girls went back to their project. They had decided to do it in plain view of Sherlock, knowing that he wouldn't bother to wonder about it if he was looking right at it. For himself, the curly haired child moved closer to John practically hugging his knee. As it grew later he had turned using one leg to lean against and the other to rest his head. Finally as the sun started to go down, John realized that somewhere in the hours of relaxed family time, Sherlock had ended up in his lap. His arms were wrapped around the boy so that he could continue to read while holding the child close. Sherlock was gripping Hamish, having abandoned his own book on the coffee table. John glanced down at him and noticed he was wide awake and seemed to be content listening to John's heartbeat.

"Are you alright little one?" He asked tenderly, kissing the top of Sherlock's head.

"Of course daddy. Justh comforthable." The boy said simply sounding happy enough. Ignoring the niggling feeling in the back of his mind, John simply placed another kiss on his head before returning to his book.

At long last the ladies stood and Mrs Hudson brought the project downstairs to store, coming back up with a platter of finger foods. Mary moved into the kitchen to get chips, dip and a couple bottles of juice. With Sherlock being young they decided to cut out soda, wanting him to gain wait in slightly healthier ways if possible.

Of course, Mary had bought some cheddar cheese and a couple apples, catching Sherlock's eye as she walked in with them. He remained seated on John until the man finally stood scooping him up.

"Well the food isn't doing us any good over there kiddo." He laughed tickling the boys side a bit to hear the high pitched giggle. He went and settled on the couch, unsurprised when Sherlock snuggled up to him again. Glancing briefly at the two women who simply shrugged, he made up a plate of various foods for the two of them to share.

Mary went over to the desk and pulled out a deck of cards before joining the other three. Chowing down a bit, they finally slowed to nibbling their foods and began a rousing game of Go Fish. Sherlock as always was champion, although now that he was younger and getting the chance to learn social cues, he did wait a little longer before beating the pants off everyone. And he didn't gloat...to much. At least usually. THis game he almost seemed disappointed when he won, glancing out of the corner of his eye at John every so often. Yet he had a smile plastered on his face.

All too soon it was minutes to midnight. In the last few minutes they packed up the leftovers, and put away the food. They had all long since changed into pj's and housecoats. Turning off the lights, the small family stood in front of the large windows and peeked out. Right on time a huge boom and crack reached their ears as bright neon colors began plastering across the sky. John watched mesmerized, as did Mary and . They didn't see Sherlock chew on Hamish's wing. His eyes darting around to the fireworks and each person in the room. They may have noticed had he been breathing heavily or some other sign that he was afraid. And Sherlock was afraid...but not of the booming and bright lights as one might imagine. No his fear was for later, when the cheerful cracks disappeared and the color faded away.

At the end of the show, the finale happened, with several non-stop minutes of booms, and bright white lights flashing. The adults clapped when it finally finished, chatting about how it had been the best show they'd seen in years. Sherlock simply stood, plastering another smile on his face as his brain continued to deduce. A there was a twitch, a stumble, oh and there was the eyebrow. It was just as he feared. He took a deep breath. At least he knew what to do.

John lifted the boy, kissing him on the nose before carrying him off to his bed. Allowing the boy to hug Mrs Hudson on the way by. Mary followed them into the room as John placed Sherlock on his bed.

"Ooh." John rotated his bad shoulder. "Bit stiff tonight." He turned his attention back to the boy. "So what did you think of the fireworks?"

"They were greath!" Sherlock replied with as much excitement as he could muster.

"I thought so too." Mary said warmly, leaning in to press a kiss to the boys cheek. "Good night darling."

John leaned over and brushed the unruly curls away. Really they needed to get the boys hair cut, it was becoming very long and more unruly than usual. He placed a kiss on his forhead. "Goodnight love, see you in the morning."

"Goodnighth mummy, daddy. Love you." Sherlock yawned and rolled over hugging Hamish tight as the adults quietly left the room, shutting off the light and cracking the door.

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Sherlock strained his ears to listen upstairs. Looking at the clock he realized it had been long enough between the last time he heard their voices that they should be fast asleep. It would give him enough time to prepare before...Sherlock shuddered not wanting to think about it. He stood, grabbing his house coat and throwing it on, tucking Hamish carefully in the pocket.

He turned to his closet and quietly opened the door. It was fairly big and a walk in at that. He stepped to the very back, eyes squinting until he found his bureau. He smiled when he found what he needed, grabbing it and walking out into the living room. He got his items together and stood at the doorway that led from the kitchen and the stairs and waited.

Fifteen minutes later, right on cue he heard a deep whimper come from the bedroom upstairs. He raised his bow and placed it against the violin with the same precision he had had as an adult. Casting back to his last memory of New Years Eve, he picked a slow steady song that sang from his voilin wafting its way upstairs to the occupants. The slow sweet melody spoke of love, happiness and the feeling of being safe. It told John that he was no longer in the war, that the fireworks simply triggered a flashback and he wouldn't wake in the desert. He wouldn't discover that Sherlock and Mary had all been a dream.

THe song spoke of how he was loved and when he woke he'd find a little boy and a wife waiting for him, ready to lavish him with love to keep the night mares at bay. Sherlock heard another couple of whimpers and a shift before all was quiet and calm upstairs. Even so he played continuously for several more hours. He only stopped when he glanced at the clock and realized the adults would be up in half an hour. He gently placed his voilin and bow back in its case, he tiptoed into his room and put it away, dressing before wandering back out into the living room and sitting tiredly on the couch.

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JOhn woke and stretched. For a moment he lay staring at the ceiling casting his mind back to the night before. He remembered the stirrings of a nightmare, pulling him into its ice cold grasp. But then he remembered something fighting against it. A slow sort of melody that fought the darkness back and enveloped him in warmth. The nightmare had pushed back and the melody had kept him company all night long. It had sounded familiar but for the life of him he couldn't recall where he had heard it from.

He rolled on his side and noticed that Mary was awake and smiling at him gently. "So...did you sleep well last night?" He wondered if it was just him or if she had heard something too.

"mmm yes surprisingly well." She looked at him thoughtfully. "I was sure I heard something. Kind of relaxed me and put me in a deeper sleep."

"Me too." John knew he had the answer to this mystery. But it eluded him. The two of them finally decided to get up. They danced around each other happily, dressing and preparing for the day.

They slipped silently downstairs and stopped just in the doorway. Sherlock was seated on the couch. He glanced up at them a smile tugging at his cheeks. John was concerned, not only was Sherlock never up before them, especially after staying up so late, but the dark circles under his eyes spoke to the fact he didn't sleep at all.

John moved over to the boy and sat carefully next to him. He enfolded him in a hug and cuddled the boy who immediately relaxed into his embrace.

"Sherlock, did you not sleep last night?"

"Noth really. Did you sleep ok?" John caught his anxious glance.

"Yes of course I did. Were you worried?" The answer was right there staring him in the face, but still he couldn't quite grasp it.

Sherlock simply shrugged and snuggled closer. John bit his lip debating. Watching as Sherlock's eyes started to drift closed before he snapped them open again, the man made his decision.

"Alright, you are going to bed."

"Wha-?" Sherlock started to ask before gasping as John lifted him, minding his arm. He made a mental note that the boy had an appointment to get the cast off that week, before carrying him into his bedroom.

Sherlock didn't bother to argue and stood staring blankly as John helped him out of his clothes and back into his pajama's. The man tucked the boy snugly into his bed and sat beside him, stroking his hair. Sherlock had one hand clasped in his and he fought to keep his eyes open.

John reached out and stroked his free hand gently through the dark curls, looking at the pale face worriedly. "Shh, its alright Lock, go to sleep my love. It's all fine." He caught a faint smile at the familiar words before Sherlock's eyes finally slipped closed and stayed that way. His hand slid from John's and reached blindly before grabbing hold of Hamish. He took a deep breath before falling deeply asleep.

John stood grasping the clothes they'd left on the floor. As he stood, he noticed something odd. Sherlock's closet door was open, he stepped towards it. It wasn't like Sherlock to miss something like that. They boy, as his adult version, tended to be messy in the rest of the flat unless he had a gentle reminder to clean up. But his room was always pristine, up too and including the door being shut.

He glanced back to be sure the boy was sleeping before ducking in. He glanced around curiously his eye catching the back where his bureau was. His heart pounded as he caught sight of the instrument case and a distant memory came back to him.

The last New Years they'd spent together. John had watched the fireworks, although Sherlock had attempted to stop him, though he wouldn't say why. Later that night John began to have dreadful nightmares of the war, explosions and bright light. He finally woke himself up, a cold sweat covering him as he tried to control his breathing.

In the background the beginnings of the violin started. John began to groan, before he realized it was different this time. The melody was sweet and slow. He felt himself relaxing and drowsing, before he knew it he'd slipped back off to sleep. But the song had flowed through his dreams over and over for the rest of the night. The following morning, he'd found Sherlock much like he had this morning. Except adult Sherlock was used to being overtired. The man had sat up to deduce him, before finally asking him if he had slept well. John remembered the amount of emotion in the man's eyes had startled him, before the wall went back up.

"Yea I did, thanks mate."

"I did nothing." Sherlock had snapped turning to his computer, although JOhn had seen a relieved smile just before he faced away from him.

The man shook his head and placing Sherlocks clothes in the hamper he crept out and silently closed the door. He smiled lovingly down at the sleeping boy, his heart near bursting with warmth. Finally he managed to pull himself away and closing the bedroom door to go and fill his wife in on their son's night activities.

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Later if John gave Sherlock an extra hard hug and a whispered thank you, the boy would simply smirk and shake his head.

"I did nothing." Would be the echoed response, although his pleased grin was seen this time. And if Sherlock spent the rest of the day and evening hugging his father's side, well that was explained away as still being overtired and not quite himself.

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Hope that's ok. Next is probably going to be Sherlock's birthday. Anything you want to see for it? Please let me know :D. R&amp;R


	33. Chapter 33

DO NOT OWN! Sherlock's birthday.

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The day started with chocolate chip pancakes with chocolate syrup. Sherlock sat peacefully eating the food steadily. He was quieter than normal but he shot a grin towards the adults every once and a while so they weren't too concerned.

Mary cleared the dishes while John stood and followed Sherlock down to his bedroom.

"I know you like your suits, but we're going to the doctor for your arm." John had pulled some strings to get the boy seen on a Saturday morning, it worked perfectly with the rest of the days plans. "So please put on a t-shirt at least."

"Ok Daddy." Sherlock said smiling up at him before trudging into his room, Hamish in tow. John went into the kitchen and kissed Mary soundly on the mouth. He winked at her before heading for the stairs. Taking them two at a time he hit the landing and grabbed his and Sherlock's jackets.

"Bye mummy!" Sherlock called before thumping down the stairs. John turned and couldn't help the aww that escaped. The child was dressed in a black t-shirt with a Smaug on it. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and had Hamish tucked in his holster. His shaggy curly hair hung in his eyes until he shook it out of the way looking up at the man expectantly.

"Oh right! Jacket." John said coming back to himself, smiling a bit at Sherlock's giggle as he helped the child into his jacket, gloves and hat. Putting his own on he checked to be sure he had his wallet and keys before ushering the boy into the cold January air.

Settling the two of them into the car, he pulled out into the busy London streets. The man glanced in the rearview mirror at his child every once and a while. Sherlock was gazing out onto the street, seemingly far away. Deciding that maybe the boy was just nervous about having another xray, which would decide if he could get the cast removed or not, he left him be.

Finally reaching the office, Sherlock was immediately whisked out back. John followed standing outside of the x-ray room. It wasn't long before he and the boy were led to another room to wait for the pictures to develop. John sat in the chair provided and kept an eye on the boy who simply sat on the bed and kicked his feet gently back and forth.

When the doctor came in, Sherlock gave a relieved sigh which caused John to smirk ever so slightly, widening into a grin as the doctor glanced blankly at the boy.

"Well, the cast can come off. Just be careful with the arm a few extra weeks to be sure everything is as it should be." THe boy simply nodded impatiently holding out the casted arm and looking at him expectantly. The man simply shook his head and got out the equipment, carefully removing the cast.

When it was finally off, Sherlock hopped up and ran over to John hugging him hard. The man laughed delightedly and hugged the boy back, lifting him and settling him on his hip.

"Anything else doctor?"

The man's eyes twinkled at them. "No John, you two are all set. Have a good day." John nodded at him while carting the smiling boy down the hall and through the waiting room. The receptionist checked them out, blowing a kiss to the blushing Sherlock. The two of them made their way out to the car, John buckled Sherlock in snugly.

Glancing at the clock, John determined they had some time left to kill. Perfect, he'd been hoping to have a little time with Sherlock to himself.

"How about some lunch? I was thinking Angelo's?" He got a nod from the back. He frowned a bit. The boy was still too quiet...not the cast then. There was nothing for it, John would have to try and pry it out of the boy when they were at lunch. He wanted the boy to be trouble free to enjoy his afternoon. Plan firmly in place he silently weaved through traffic until the familiar restaurant front appeared. Parking and feeding the machine, he took Sherlock's hand and walked into the building confidently.

"AH John and the little beekeeper!" Angelo greeted them, slapping John on the shoulder and patting Sherlock on the head. He led them to their favorite table by the window. "What'll you have to drink?"

"I'll have a cup of tea with milk. Sherlock?"

Sherlock dragged himself from his thoughts and smiled a bit at the waitor. "Chocolathe milk please Mr. Angelo."

"None of that beekeeper none of that, I'm just ANgelo eh?" He smiled before turning and going to see to their drinks personally.

When John was sure he was gone he turned to face the silent boy in front of him. "Ok Sherlock, spill. What is wrong?"

Sherlock glanced up at him, his eyes calculating, before looking at the table once more chewing on his lip.

"I...you don'th wanth tho know."

John gazed at him worriedly, reaching a hand across and placing it on Sherlock's own. Startled the boy looked up at him again. His eyes were brighter than normal. Whatever he was holding back had him upset. John wasn't having any of that especially on the boy's birthday.

"I do want to know. You know it helps to talk things out. We've practiced it for months." Practiced it so much in fact, that Sherlock had started to feel comfortable just randomly coming up to John and beginning to speak without being prompted, if something was wrong. John was insanely curious about what could have happened that would suddenly change that.

"You'll geth angry." Sherlock mumbled lip tucked back in between his teeth. John was stopped from answering as Angelo swooped back in and placed their drinks before them.

"Now then what will you gentlemen have to eat?"

"Sherlock?" John asked, the boy looked at him pleadingly. Taking the hint he turned back to the other man. "We'll both have a serving of your lasagna."

"Very good!" Angelo bowed a bit before moving off.

John turned back to the curly haired youth. "I will not be mad at you. I can't promise I won't be angry because I don't like you being hurt or upset, but it won't be at you."

Sherlock studied him a moment longer before taking a long shuddering breath. "I goth some memories back thoday. Mosth of them are there buth are fuzzy excepth up to my last day as a seven year old. But lasth nighth my memories of being eighth surfaced." John nodded. "I...he..." A sob slipped through and he looked at John desperately. The little face was full of anguish and he was looking to John to make it better. John grabbed both of the small hands in his.

"Take your time Sherlock. It will be ok."

The boy glanced around to make sure they were alone before gently tugging his hands away. John stared but said nothing. Usually Sherlock welcomed any comfort if he was telling him something from his past.

"I'm disgusthing, and a freak and..."He finally took a deep breath and said what he needed too quickly. "He...touched me...where he shouldn'th. He said I enjoyed ith. But I didn'th I swear." THe boys hands went up to cover his face as John's went stone cold.

Physical abuse wasn't enough? Mental abuse, emotional abuse? None of this was enough for that bastard? He had to take the last thing that Sherlock had for himself. That horrible creature had taken all of Sherlock's innocence and stomped it. Suddenly the adult version's attitude became even clearer. He didn't eat because it was something he had control of, and perhaps somewhere in there he thought if he was too skinny no one would want him. He didn't sleep, again all about control. He didn't allow people close to him, and why would he? Everyone that was ever supposed to love and take care of him and failed him. Bullied and abused at home and school. It was a wonder that the brilliant man had made it to his thirties.

John stood suddenly and filing away Sherlock's huge flinch, he went around the table and scooped the boy up. He sat placing him in his lap and hugged him close. Sherlock relaxed immediately and fisted his hands in John's shirt. For his part the man cooed in the boys ear and ran a hand through his unruly locks.

"You listen to me. You are not disgusting, you are not any of those horrible things that man told you. You are to young to know what he was doing to you. He is disgusting and a monster. I would do anything to take your place so you didn't have to go through all these things."

"I wouldn'th do ith any differenthly." The muffled voice responded. John looked down.

"I wouldn'th have meth you. You're the besth thing thath ever happened tho me." For just a moment, it was the adult looking out at him. John gulped, watching as the child came back to the forfront tears started to stream from his eyes.

"I love you so much. My beautiful perfect boy." He kissed him on the top of the head and allowed the boy to sob on his shoulder. He caught a few concerned looks from other patrons. He nodded and smiled at them so they'd turn away. He felt wet seep into his shoulder but thought nothing of it, just rocking the boy allowing him to let it out.

John decided to have a chat with Mycroft later. He was sure that the other man couldn't know about the extent of his brothers abuse, not if the parents were still free. He'd have a chat and tell him exactly what Sherlock's child hood was like. If the man did nothing, well...he would have to take matters into his own hands then.

Suddenly the boy pulled back. Clumsily he kissed John's cheek before smiling at him shyly.

"Thanks Daddy." John knew this was far from the end. But for now Sherlock was feeling better, and they had the rest of the day of fun to get too.

"Of course. I love you." He kissed the boy once more before placing him back in his seat and going around to his own.

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When the meal was over, the two of them had piled into the car. Sherlock was chatting happily, wondering if they could make their own lasagna sometime. Once in a while he'd deduce someone as they sat at a red light. John was relieved that he was back to normal.

Getting back to 221B he parked and noticed all the extra cars. He winced, they should have thought that one through. SHerlock simply looked around and then looked up at John confused.

"THe neighbors musth be having a parthy." He shrugged and led his father into the building. The two of them shucked off their winter things. John picked up Sherlock, who wrapped his arms around him and laid his head on his shoulder. He marched up the stairs. The flat was silent and dark. He stepped through the doorway to their living room.

"SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHERLOCK!" The boy jumped and whipped his head around to look in wonder. Mary, Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, Sarah, Donovan and Anderson all stood around a massive chocolate frosted cake. Happy Birthday Sherlock was written in black and yellow icing and there were little bee's drawn all over the place.

They all waited for some sort of reaction from Sherlock. The boy studied them all, a dazed look in his eyes. Before glancing down at the cake and finally at John.

"When's my birthday?"

The mood dropped about ten degrees as the confused boy asked his question. John supposed it made sense. They did nothing else nice for the child, why bother to tell him when he was born. Although he was disappointed by Mycroft. Not that it would matter. The government man would just say it was unnecessary sentiment and leave it at that.

Sherlock shifted uneasily in his arms, pulling him back to the present. The guests looked on unsure what to do. The boy just looked at him sadly.

"Did I do something wrong?" He asked despondently.

"No your bloody biologicals did." John ground out angrily.

"JOHN! Language!" Mary said sharply.

"Sorry, sorry." He mumbled back turning his attention back to the child in his arms. "Today is your birthday Sherlock. You're eight now." He looked at him meaningfully, Sherlock nodded in understanding. It was why he'd received the new memories. "We were trying to surprise you, that's why we didn't wish you happy birthday this morning. We didn't realize we were going to surprise you by telling you your birthday." He groused the last part to himself. Sherlock simply patted his cheek and slid from his arms.

He ran up to each guest and hugged them about the middle. "Thank you for coming for my birthday." THe boy said brightly and sincerely.

After the relative hiccup at the start of the party, the rest of it went well. They taught Sherlock some birthday games, Pin the Tail on the Donkey, and such. There was even a pinata, that Sherlock (with some secret help from Mary) ended up breaking open.

Sherlock laughed, giggled and goofed around as never before. He had two large pieces of cake and several pieces of candy. John cut him off, but later caught Lestrade trying to sneak him more sugary byproducts.

"Do you want him to go with you? He's hyper as is." Lestrade snapped the candy back ignoring the pout on the child's lips.

The party went well into the evening. At one point it became about celebrating their quirky family as much as Sherlock's birthday. The adults finally noticed that the two children were missing from the party. John snuck down the hall and peeked in Sherlock's room. He smiled and beckoned Lestrade and Mary.

Sherlock had lent Sarah a pair of pajama's and she was curled up in the bed fast asleep. Sherlock was in his own pj's, curled up under his dulvet on the floor. The gallant child had given up his bed for his friend. The adults decided to leave them be. Lestrade and Mary went back to the party. John stayed just a moment longer before turning to leave. He felt a hand tug on his sleeve. Glancing down he saw Sherlock rubbing his eyes sleepily. He knelt down to his level.

"What is it Lock?" He asked.

Sherlock simply hugged him tightly. "Love you daddy." Letting go he stumbled back into the room and tumbled into his blanket.

"Love you too." He smiled once more at the sight before heading out to the adults.

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Hope you enjoyed. Any suggestions for the next one? R&amp;R.


	34. Chapter 34

DO NOT OWN! Alright so this ones a little different. Its going to be in Sherlock's perspective rather than John's for the most part, but I hope its enjoyable.

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Sherlock sat patiently in his seat sipping at his chocolate milk. The restaurant was quite busy so it was taking a while for the waiter to come and take their order. The boy didn't mind, he wasn't too overwhelmed, although it was very crowded. He was with his mummy and daddy and they tended to make the fear go to the back burner. Unless it was a particularly trying day.

The two adults were speaking to each other, arguing fondly over what they wanted. Sherlock smiled at them secretly and lovingly before allowing his eyes to wander, absently observing and deducing anyone he could see.

The couple to the left of them...he was having a small hurried meal, she was having a grand large meal. He was planning on breaking up with her and didn't want to spend a lot of money on the meal. She had figured out his plan and ordered the most expensive meal she could. Sherlock smirked a bit at that before moving on. Let's see, that table was going to have a proposal, the next one she was going to announce her pregnancy and was excited but unsure how her boyfriend would react. That one was hoping to get laid with someone new. The people outside were gearing up to take the restaurant hostage. That one was...Sherlock blinked fast and focused back on the men outside the restaurant. He leaned in a bit and narrowed his eyes in concentration. There were three men, he could tell by the way they absently reached at their jackets that they had guns. One looked angry and he looked familiar. Why? He searched his mind and cast back to when the owner had come around to greet everyone. So his brother, clearly angry...why? Digging through his adult memories he recalled that this establishment had been owned by brothers. But the current owner, Louis Archpold, had caught his brother Arthur Archpold skimming money to pay for his drug habits. He'd called the cops and the case had been huge. It was one of the few big ones that adult Sherlock had not been a part of, but he'd followed it closely. The police had followed Arthur's movements and uncovered a huge drug cartel that he was a part of. They managed to catch the big boss, that had resulted in a shoot out and the death of the boss. Arthur had been captured and put away for years. On camera after the jury's decision he'd sworn on camera that he'd be back and his brother would pay. Clearly he meant to take the restaurant. And do what? It didn't matter, his parents were there and he wasn't going to allow them to get hurt. He judged he had a few minutes to get them out. The men that Arthur had brought appeared to have cold feet but he could tell that the man was talking them around.

"Daddy! I don't have Hamish! He must be in the car." He forced his eyes to widen miserably and to dart around as if the crowds were beginning to bother him. He bit his lip and wrung his hands together.

The adults looked at him startled and concerned. At his words John stood nodding his head.

"Alright Lock, I'll go get him." He stood and moved towards the doorway. He waited until John was just out of sight of the doorway before doing the other part of his plan. He knew Mary was watching him closely, so he fidgeted around and pretended to look down, gasp and reach to the floor.

"Mummy! He's here. He must have fallen out of my holster." He held up Hamish, his eyes wide and fearful. "M'sorry. Is Daddy gonna be mad?" He felt a twinge at lying but he couldn't allow them to be hurt. They were all he had and they were the nicest people ever. They'd even been nice to his damaged freakish adult self.

Mary stood and came around, kissing his forhead and running a hand through his hair. "No of course he won't dear. He'll be pleased you found him." Sherlock glanced out the window, and knew the men were getting braver but tried to be patient. Mary could tell when he was lying unless he tried really hard to hide it. So he couldn't act unusual or hurried. He looked back at her as she continued to speak, relief mounting at her next words. "Will you be alright here for a moment? I want to pop out and tell him you found him. If he doesn't find him in the car, he's liable to drive back to Baker Street looking for him."

"Ok mummy, I'm sorry." He said this to mean more than what she thought it was for. Mary simply smiled and patted his head before heading towards the exit herself. Sherlock held his breath as he watched them men head for the door. What if they made her stay?

His relief was palpable when Arthur simply held the door open for her. She smiled at him and walked past. Taking a moment to make sure she actually made it outside, he slid from his chair and began to crawl across the floor. He had a couple ideas, but first he had to find the manager's office. Louis was up at the bar, talking with a friend and hadn't noticed his brother, so Sherlock would have an easy time getting in the office.

The boy crawled dodging waiters, who barely spared a glance for the young boy. He got a couple of awe's from patrons who noticed him and his bee but no one stopped him. He controlled his breathing, although he jumped a bit as raised voices came from the front and the restaurant went silent.

"YOU BLOODY WELL GOT ME ARRESTED! YOUR OWN BROTHER."

"You were stealing money and doing drugs!"

"WE'RE FAMILY!"

"I AM NOT FAMILY WITH A THIEF!"

Sherlock found the door and waited for the right moment to open it and slip inside.

"You're not going to be anyone's family in a few minutes. Unless you do exactly as I say."

"I'll do nothing for you!"

BANG! Just what Sherlock was waiting for, as the shot echoed and people began to scream he opened the office door. Taking one last look around, he noticed one of the gunned men were blocking the entrance. He could just see out of the window a horrified Mary and John searching for him. He ducked his head and moved into the office clicking the door shut. He leaned against it a moment trying to get his bearings.

"Now we're taking over this restaurant. You're going to give me all the money you have and I might not kill you when I leave." The man laughed maniacally. Clearly his time in jail had not been kind to his mental stability. Sherlock shook his head glancing. He spotted the man's cell phone and decided first things first. Grabbing it, he hid himself under the desk pulling the chair in close, in case someone came in to look. Outside the door he heard the patrons being rounded up, forced to remove their shoes and sit on the floor. His heart pounded as he heard one woman scream, praying for her to shut up.

"SHUT UP YOU FUCKING BITCH!" A new voice, clearly one of the assistants. The woman kept screaming. Sherlock bit his lip and fumbled as he dialed a number from memory.

"Lestrade." He breathed a sigh of relief when the detective answered after the first ring.

"LEstrade! It's Sherlock. There's a hold up at Chez Louis! Arthur Archpold is here." HE hissed as quietly as possible, keeping his ears perked to movement outside. So far he could hear them rounding up people, the woman still screaming, the man getting more and more angry.

"SHerlock? How do you know? Where is Mary and John?" The man sounded frantic.

"I'm..."HIs sentence was cut off when the thug apparently finally had enough of the screaming, a shot rang throughout the restaurant as the woman was silenced forever.

"Anyone make any other noise and their next!" The nasally voice yelled, although there was a tone of delight in his voice. Oh great a madman that enjoyed killing, just perfect. He thanked his lucky stars he'd gotten his family out.

"Was that a gun shot? SHERLOCK ARE YOU IN THE BUILDING?"His voice seeped worry.

"YEs, I deduced they were going to take over the restaurant. I got John and Mary out, I think I have a plan to trip them up so you can get in. So get your officers over here. Use the paging system to announce your arrival so I can begin my plan."

"Sherlock! Are you crazy, your eight! Get out..." Sherlock heard footsteps coming towards him.

"I'm not right now, and someone's coming. Just do as I say!" He snapped. Ignoring Lestrade's protests, he hung up the phone and quickly placed it on the edge of the desk before going back under to his hiding spot.

The door creaked open and heavy footsteps walked in. He held his breath as they moved around the room. He tried to gauge what the man was looking for.

"Oi Arthur Mate!" SHerlock barely avoided jumping as the man yelled, standing very close to the desk. "I found his cell!"

"Smash it Martin!" THe voice floated back.

"With pleasure." Sherlock heard him slide the phone of the desk and a second later he heard the crunch of metal as it slammed into the wall and then was stomped on. The boy breathed a small sigh of relief when he heard the man stomp out and slam the door shut. Taking an extra moment to make sure they weren't coming back, he snuck out of his spot and took a look around the office. To his left he noticed a vent on the floor. Moving towards it he looked it over and took a big sniff. Good it appeared to lead to the kitchen. Perfect. He glanced around again on the wall, he noticed a panel. The breakers for the electricity in the building. He grinned, also perfect. Moving on he dug around in the man's desk. Nothing of note, he turned towards the shelves. Now this was intriguing. The man had several collectable items. Including, he smirked, a Flintstones alarm clock. A plan formed in his head firmly. He grabbed the alarm clock and moved over to the vent. Standing there a moment he listened for what was going on in the other room.

In the distance he heard sirens and it was clear that Arthur understood they were coming for him. Instead of being upset, he seemed pleased they were coming.

"Now I'll get your money fool, and I'll have a police escort out of the city." Sherlock rolled his eyes, clearly this man had never watched the movies. Hostage situations never worked out in favor of the bad guy. Especially not with Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective on the job. He'd pushed the childish part of him away, so that what was left was the echoes of his adult self, if he hadn't he'd be in a corner frightened with an anxiety attack. Not acceptable when there were people in trouble and one already dead. Shaking himself out of his reverie, he slid the vent cover slowly and quietly from its place, stopping every once and a while to be sure that no one heard and came looking. When it was open, he slid in, there was just enough room to turn and put the vent cover back neatly, before turning back into the dark space. Quietly he slid through the tunnel, hearing the yelling get louder as he passed the dining area. He followed his nose through a couple of twists and turns, trying to keep his claustrophobia at bay. Finally, he reached the vent leading into the kitchen. He took a moment to look through the grates and glance around. They had cleared the kitchen and barred the door with one of the huge ovens. Clearly satisfied no one would be getting in that way, they left it unprotected. Sherlock smirked at their stupidity before sliding the grate out and getting out. He left the grate to the side this time, to make for an easy escape. At this point the sirens were out front, he could hear Lestrade speaking over the loudspeaker and the bad guys talking loudly amongst themselves. Perfect.

Moving around the kitchen, he plugged up the sinks and turned the water on. There were eight different sinks. Leaving them running, he turned and found a water pipe. Glancing at it, he found that by twisting the handle on the side of it, the pipe would begin to leak as well. He grabbed a metal spoon from a rack and stuck it in the hole of the handle, putting all his weight into it, he finally felt it shift. He turned it easily until water began to gush out of it. It ran across the floor, soaking him as it splashed up suddenly.

He could hear Arthur talking on the phone, with the police. He was making demands, and getting peeved. Clearly they weren't being cooperative.

"I'm going to kill a hostage, if you do not heed my demands! I need a million dollars and a plane outta here!" He screeched into the phone. Finally he seemed to get what he wanted, because he calmed.

"Fine you have an hour." Sherlock heard the three men begin to laugh and joke, he heard the clink of glass and realized they were celebrating.

"Little pions." He muttered standing impatiently near the grate. He watched as the water from the pipe flowed across the floor. It took nearly twenty long minutes but the sink overflowed and the floor was sopping wet with inches of water covering it. Deciding it was time, he set the alarm clock for five minutes and tucked it safely into one of the metal shelves. Turning he sloshed through the water and back into the grate. Placing the lid back he moved through the grating and back into the office. Sliding the grate into place there he pushed the chair towards the electric panel and stood, waiting.

All too soon the alarm sounded and echoed loudly because of its metal container. He heard swearing and running from the men, judging when they would reach the kitchen he snapped off the breakers for the lights and sunk the restaurant into dark gloom. He heard swearing and crashing as he jumped from the chair and out the office door. Not bothering to much to look around, as he could still hear the men slipping and sliding in the kitchen he ran to the entrance. Jumping up he unbolted it. A swarm of hostages came towards him, he took a moment to throw open the door.

"LESTRADE GET IN HERE!" He yelled before being shoved to the side as person after person rushed out, crying. Finally the last one escaped, Sherlock glanced around to make sure there was no one else before making for the door himself. He could see the police running towards the building.

"HEY!" Arthur shouted behind him. The bang of a gun fired and he felt a burn, but ignored it as he continued out the door, zig zagging past the police who ran in bullets flying.

He didn't stop running until he made it too the barricade. He glanced around frantically, pulling Hamish from his holster and squeezing as he searched for John and Mary.

"SHERLOCK!" He turned and saw them running for him. He took a step towards them, but the burning sensation was back and extreme.

"Daddy?" He asked confused before he stumbled falling into blissful unconsciousness.

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John and Mary sat listening to the bleeps of the monitor each holding one of Sherlock's hands as the boy slept quiet and pale on the hospital bed.

When Mary had joined him outside of the restaurant, John knew...knew that something was up. Sherlock never lost Hamish, it was like he had a radar for the bee. He should have known before, but it wasn't until Mary joined him, laughing about the boys mistake that it hit him. Sherlock was trying to get rid of him. He ran for the restaurant and saw it was barricaded by a man with a gun. He swore, tears coming to his eyes as he searched frantically in the restaurant for the boy. It was clear the patrons noticed an argument but they hadn't noticed the guns. But John couldn't see Sherlock, he wasn't at their table.

"That little!" He cursed under his breath. He knew Sherlock was still his adult self in there somewhere but did he have to go looking for trouble without help? "I'm grounding him for a month! NO two months." He swore and paced, Mary was on the phone to the police, Lestrade's phone had been busy so she was trying the station.

"You know about the situation? How?" John looked at her sharply and suddenly understanding crossed her face. "ALright just hurry, our son's still in there!"

She snapped the phone closed and the two of them watched from a safe distance. They saw the people being rounded up, no sign of Sherlock. They heard the gunshot, and watched the woman fall. They saw the man go into a doorway and come back out. No Sherlock. ANother man checked the bathrooms, and they had pulled the people from the kitchen. Where was their child? They were glad he hadn't been caught, but what if he had been found and just shot? They held each other, perking a bit when the sirens finally screamed through the air.

Suddenly there was a whirlwind of activity around them. Lestrade came up to pull them near the barricade, allowing them to be on the police side. They listened as he spoke with the maniac, getting frustrated when there was no mention of a little boy. They watched the building as the men laughed and drank. When suddenly they began to yell and run for the kitchen.

"Sherlock." JOhn murmured, Mary nodded with agreement. They watched as the men disappeared and suddenly the restaurant went dark. They waited with bated breath, watching as the door opened, they gasped in relief when Sherlock poked his head out.

"LESTRADE GET IN HERE!" He'd yelled and then he'd been shoved aside as a sea of hostages came storming out. JOhn had tried to run for the door, but Lestrade had grabbed him, he'd been helpless and watched as the police stormed dodging hostages. He saw Sherlock once more, but heard a yell and a gunshot before Sherlock came running, dodging left and right as he ran for the barricade. He moved towards the boy, who was gazing around dazedly clutching Hamish. The adult part of him had hibernated now that the danger was past and the child in him was scared and looking for his parents. John called out to him and he turned catching sight of him. John freaked and ran as the boy collapsed. As he dove to his knees near him, he noticed all the blood.

"That bastard shot him!" He screeched hearing exclamations from Mary and Lestrade as he tugged at the boys clothing trying to find the bullet wound.

Several hours, and an emergency room visit later he found out the bullet had grazed the boy in the leg. He'd fallen unconscious because of the shock of being so young and having such an ordeal happen to him. If he woke up and was fine in the morning he could go home.

John had sat stewing with Mary while they waited for the boy to open his beautiful eyes. She had talked him down from grounding, finally talking sense into him. This was who Sherlock was, all they could do was teach him he was loved and he had worth so he would hopefully not play with his life. But since the adult was in there somewhere they couldn't truly punish him for being himself. They had decided some time in the corner for not allowing them to help but nothing about solving the actual case and saving people.

When the boy finally woke, he cried and hugged them tight.

"I was so worried they would geth you!" They reassured him that they were ok and they loved him and were just as worried.

When they went home that afternoon they sat him down and explained that they understood it was difficult with his two sets of memories and they were in no way punishing him for being him. But they said that the next time he needed to include them because they were there for him and they were doubly worried about him as he was for them. He'd burst out crying again, but because of the earnest way they said that they loved him and worried for him. He'd taken his punishment as something he was due and promised that he would try and include them next time.

All and all it had been an interesting adventure.

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Hope this chapter was ok. A few people have asked for more adult Sherlock flickering through so I figured why not a chapter about it? Next chapter will be John finally confronting Mycroft about the extent of Sherlock's abuse.


	35. Chapter 35

DO NOT OWN! The awaited John Vs Mycroft chapter. Does he know the extent of what Sherlock went through? What will he do when faced with an angry ex-army doctor?

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John was standing straight arms behind his back facing forward. His face was smooth and blank but inside he was fuming. It had taken well over a week but he'd finally managed to get Mycroft to agree to meet him. He'd had to make several threats, including just bursting into one of his many government meetings to do it, but finally the man had agreed.

Now he stood in the home of the other man, in the living room. He'd refused a seat, and while normally he'd be very curious to look around at the home of such an intricate person, he was too angry and resolved to notice much beyond the fact there was a fire place, some leather chairs and a painting of a dog over the fire place.

It had been five minutes since the butler had left him, and said would be with him soon and as he waited the anger in him built. Mycroft had better pray that he didn't know what Sherlock had gone through completely or the man was going to be in heaps of trouble. Mr and Mrs Holmes were going to be taken care of whether the government official did it, or John himself did it.

"Ah John, why don't you take a seat." The deep overly polite voice came from behind him.

"I'd rather stand for this, Mycroft." He said stiffly turning on his heel and going down to a parade rest.

"To what do I owe this pleasure." John watched as Mycroft observed him, he knew the man knew he was angry and that it had to do with Sherlock. But he clearly had him stumped beyond that.

"Do you know the extent of your parents abuse on your younger brother?" He hissed.

"*Sigh* John what's past is past, why are you bringing this up again?"

"PAST IS PAST? Tell that to the little boy who wakes up every morning with nightmares of his FATHER raping him!" He mentally slapped himself. This was not how he'd wanted the conversation to go. But how could the man, who'd had several men disappear for looking at Sherlock funny, just let his parents who'd beaten, belittled, emotionally and physically traumatize him, run around as if nothing had happened?

He opened his mouth to speak as he glanced up at the other man. His mouth closed again as he took a good look at the other man. Mycroft was standing straight, his eyes wide and calculating. He'd gone extremely pale and this lips were moving, as John tried to read them he was sure whatever he was speaking, it wasn't in English. Suddenly he felt guilt boiling in the pit of his stomach. This man had a hard thing to deal with. Those people were his parents too, but Sherlock was his younger brother. Somehow he had to balance it out. Now he'd ruined that balance by bringing to light another aspect of his younger brothers life that he'd been unaware of.

"Look Mycroft I shouldn't-" He was stopped as Mycroft raised a hand and looked him in the eye.

"All I was trying to do was protect him. I couldn't back then, I was too young myself. But I tried to keep him away from them whenever I could. I moved him out when I was old enough, I kept them away from him when he was an adult as often as possible. I thought I was doing the right thing." Suddenly he looked very weary and very old. He sat rather heavily on one of his chairs putting his face in his hands. John was unsure what to do, so stood and waited for him to say something else.

As he waited he gazed around the room, and his eyes went back to the painting, in the background behind the red dog, he could make out a smiling Sherlock.

"That is Redbeard."JOhn jumped as Mycroft spoke. "He was supposed to be my dog, but he adored Sherlock. I tried to keep it a secret from our-my parents so that he had something that made him happy. They found out...and had him put down." John could almost swear there were tears in the other mans eyes. "Sherlock completely shut down after that. He proclaimed himself a sociopath and pushed everyone away. He didn't have friends at school anyway so that wasn't hard. Really it was only me he had to get rid of. He just shut down. I thought he was ruined for life, until he met you. " He took a deep breath. "But this, I never...they did such horrible things to him, but I thought that that part of him at least, was protected."

John stood awkwardly as he watched the normally stoic man, try to grapple with his emotions. Long minutes passed, before the older man finally looked up. His eyes appeared to possibly be slightly red rimmed, but other than that he was as straight faced as normal.

He stood and reached out a hand to shake John's. They shook hands, and Mycroft ushered him towards the door. Just before the doctor left, he turned to him.

"I thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will always be sorry that I couldn't protect him better, especially from...this." He looked John straight in the eye. " They will be taken care of. I felt some sentiment for them, no matter how little it was, for being my parents. But that is done, they will pay for everything that they have done to him. Just...thank you for doing what I never could. Thank you for letting him live."

There was a flurry of motion and John suddenly found himself outside the closed doors, a car waiting to bring him back to 221B. He sat the entire ride, picturing Mycroft's downtrodden face. He felt bad about ruining Mycroft's balancing act, but not enough to regret it. They needed to be taken care of, and now that he knew they would be he could go back to focusing on helping his son heal.

John tromped up the stairs, quickly wanting to see Sherlock for himself. Wanted to make sure that telling Mycroft hadn't somehow gotten back to those devil people and that they had come to punish him. Just as he topped the stairs he heard giggling. It warmed his heart and he strode in, looking around the flat.

Sherlock was on his knees on one of the kitchen chairs, leaning over the table and scribbling away on a piece of paper. Hamish sat next to him on the table, while Mary moved around making dinner. Music was playing in the background and the two of them were humming along, laughing together. John leaned against the door frame and watched his happy little family for a moment. Those people had no idea what they had lost, trying to destroy this sweet little boy. He had been stronger than them and while he didn't come out unscathed, he'd come out victorious, they hadn't broken him.

"DADDY!"He knelt down and grabbed Sherlock up into a hug and twirled him around, relishing the happy belly laughs coming from the child.

"I love you 'Lock." He whispered fiercely into the boys ear.

"Love you thoo daddy!" He said back.

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Any ideas for a next chapter? Hope you enjoyed! R&amp;R


	36. Chapter 36

DO NOT OWN! I'm back! Thank you so much to everyone who continued to read in my absence. It's been a long year and a lot of it I was in a bad place so I apologize for the delay. To be honest a lot of the reason I write this story is to write out some of my own experiences and how I wish I had a John and Mary. Anyway not the point! Warnings for this chapter, it will be gory and not nice, Mycroft punishes his parents on behalf of his little brother.

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The only sounds in the damp dim room were the slight clanking of metal. Once in a while there was a dull tap of something striking the concrete ground. There really was no need for everything to be quite so dark, after all the prisoner was blindfolded, for the moment. Mycroft glanced around the dreary place across the room for the still knocked out man. John would be pleased, he assumed, as after this the government man would never again be able to hold his meetings in deserted warehouses. He was committed to this; the creature hanging by his wrists in the center of the room wasn't his father, not anymore. Nausea rose in him but his face didn't change; he had years of practice controlling his human weaknesses. As most people though he had an Achilles heel, Sherlock. It was painful to know that the boy wanted to know him and wanted to be near, after everything that he hadn't protected him from. Mycroft had known his parents weren't exactly kind to Sherlock; they had never been really kind to him either. But he had been young and stupid, he believed his little brother could become like him and shut it all off. However, he hadn't been born on the Asperger spectrum as Sherlock had, in fact it had been years before a doctor had even bothered to diagnose his little brother, and by then the damage had been done. The misconception about people with Sherlock's condition was that they didn't feel emotions at all, when in fact they felt them and everything more keenly than the average human. Sherlock's social anxiety was as much being overwhelmed, sensory overload was the proper term, as it was fearing that those people were going to come and hurt him like most everyone else in his life had.

Mycroft took his own blame for his brother becoming so hard to the world it was easier for him to pretend he was a cold unfeeling bad guy than what he really was. After all he had chosen a life of helping people when there were plenty of other occupations that would hold his attention and keep him from becoming bored than solving crimes. No one bothered to think about that, they saw what they wanted to see and what the younger man had allowed them to see. The ginger simply hoped that all that he was learning now would carry over when he was an adult again. He was fairly certain it would, and he knew that Sherlock would be an adult again, not by aging but by whatever the chemicals had been wearing off. They had found Moriarty's lair after proving positively he was actually dead this time, and the man had been unnervingly obsessed with the younger Holmes. Pictures and journals and videos were everywhere and in one Moriarty had deduced that if he could get Mary and John to give the boy hope and then break him himself he could mold him to be the next consulting criminal and that he would remain that way even after growing once more. Moriarty was a certified psychopath who honestly didn't have emotions but he had interests and one of those, as close as "love" he could get had been for Sherlock.

The suited government official shook his head and turned his thoughts to the man before him. Moriarty was gone and he couldn't come back this time, this arsehole however needed to be dealt with. John had been giving him stubborn updates whenever Sherlock confided something about his childhood to him. Mycroft wanted to say he didn't want to know because he wanted to keep his distance but truly he didn't want to know because he had wanted to keep his parents in his mind as parent's not monsters. Sherlock had been an accident baby, and Mycroft had been ten when he had been born. By then he had perfected being perfect in his parents eyes, he studied quietly everything they wanted him too; he cultivated connections at school and in the neighborhood. He ate when he was told too, slept when he was bid and kept any and all emotions hidden. His father had belted him once ever and he had learned to be obedient. It was why he was the British government now, he hated being controlled and now no one could do that to him. But when Sherlock was born he was already off to private school, his first year in fact, where he remained all through the year besides holidays. He assumed his parents didn't want him to know what they were doing because while they weren't exactly nice to Sherlock, he had never once witnessed them be as cruel as John described. But it was a testament to their character that he knew without a shadow of a doubt they had done exactly as the boy had described. What did it say about them or him that they could do that and he could believe it? Locking a child in the closet for days at a time? An attic because he was scared of a storm? And then to find out that not even the boys innocence had remained in tack had been the final blow. Mycroft could no longer see his parents and he didn't really want too except the small sentimental part of him he had never managed to kill.

A familiar voice groaned and Mycroft came back to himself immediately closing off the pondering portion of his mind. He did the technique Sherlock did; he just never called it a mind palace. Then again Sherlock literally pictured a building when he merged into his mind, Mycroft did not. His eyes flickered towards the moaning hanging man blindfolded and he took steps towards him.

"What is this? Who are you?" The arrogant voice demanded, though Mycroft detected a sliver of fear. Good. "My son works for the government and he won't stand for this!" Said son rolled his eyes, never a good idea to show your hand so early in a hostage situation. "Who are you? I demand answers!" Sweat was pouring down the man's body and his hands were red from being suspended by them for so long.

"Really father, don't you know it's weak to beg? To show fear and any advantage you may have? "Mycroft finally said delighted when the body froze in shock and not a little bit of horror." I believe that is the one and only lesson you beat me to ensure I learned it. However Sherlock wasn't so lucky was he?"

"That waste of space? That's what this is about?" The man spat in disgust. "You didn't bother to care how we raised him the first time around and you've made sure we have no access to him now so what is the point of this? Release me Mycroft!" He demanded.

A jolt of red hot anger coursed through his body and he was glad the man was blindfolded. Rarely did Mycroft lose his temper, especially after training himself. But catch him in the wrong mood on the wrong day and even if he only perceived that he was being ordered around was enough to set him off. Today was the wrong day. Before he was aware what was happening he had raised his umbrella and slammed the handle into the side of his father's head. The cry of pain and blood from his split lip was satisfying.

"I was little more than a child myself and I didn't want to see because I wanted to believe you were the parents I thought you were." He hissed his voice cold and dangerous enough to keep the other man silent for a moment. "But I've heard what you've done and I'm not even sure it's scratched the surface of what you and mother put him through."

That jolted the elder Holmes. "Where is she? What have you done with my wife?" He growled correctly assuming that calling her Mycroft's mum wasn't the way to go.

"Oh you would be pleased and disappointed father. She begged and cried but she was looking for you. So you did have someone who loved you." After Mycroft had determined the woman hadn't known her husband was doing sexual things to the boy he had killed her, more swiftly than the man would be getting. "Even when she found out her loving husband was a pedophile she still screamed for you till the very end." He said enjoying the faces of rage and pain flashing across his father's face.

"How could you Mycroft? How could you? Your own mother over that...that thing!" He howled his grief palpable.

Mycroft hissed and grabbed his hair speaking spittle flying from his mouth and splattering on the captured man's face. "He is a boy, a child and my little brother. You not only destroyed him physically and emotionally you took his innocence away! Now I'm going to take something from you." Anger coursed through him and it took everything he had not to break the man's windpipe and kill him now. But he had forced Sherlock to suffer, for thirty years until he met John and while Mycroft couldn't make him suffer that long, he could make him suffer a lot. As he spoke his umbrella poked his father in the groin and he watched as the man's face went white with realization.

"No Mycroft please! No you can't! Why are you so concerned with the freak? We loved you and we raised you well. We weren't even supposed to have him. Doesn't that count for something?" Mycroft's hands loosened, and the man went on eagerly believing he had his boy listening. "Please I'm your father and I love you. I'll forgive what you did to your mother, just let me go."

Mycroft backed away and turned nodding to the men waiting in the shadows, they moved forward with a tray of medical supplies, his father had a look of hope on his face and Mycroft enjoyed watching as it abruptly faded to fear as his lower half was stripped of any clothing.

"Castration is too good for you, but you shall have it and anything else until my friends are bored." He turned on his heel and left them too it. The men had been chosen carefully, ones who had always wanted to kill the pedophile that had hurt them but hadn't been able too, now in a way they could.

Blood curdling screams followed him as he stepped outside of the warehouse into the fresh air. He took a deep breath and looked up into the gray sky. Anthea walked over to him barely concealing her concern.

"Looks as though it might storm." He said simply before ushering her into the limo and getting in. He looked out the window until he could no longer see the warehouse.

After a moment of debating he pulled out his phone and dialed a number. Unsurprising a childish voice answered.

"Hello? Hello?" There was a moment in which Mycroft knew Sherlock was letting his more adult memories take over for a moment. "Mycrofth are you ok?" He hung up without responding, knowing his brother would deem him as fine as could be. He had just needed to hear his voice as sentimental as it was.

"I am sorry little brother. I hope this is enough.'

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Well this chapter didn't turn out at all how I imagined, it rather wrote itself. I hope it was ok! Please R&amp;R and if you have any suggestions for future chapters don't hesitate to let me know!


	37. Chapter 37

DO NOT OWN! This one will switch between John and Sherlock's POV. A night at the circus sounds fun? Maybe...

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John was beginning to feel guilty. With everything that had gone on with Moriarty and then finding out the exact extent of Sherlock's biological fathers depravity, he and Mary had rather been keeping the boy cooped up in the flat. There hadn't been any trips to the park, restaurants and John had kept Lestrade from getting in touch with the boy about any cases. He could see the boys understanding and he was showing as much patience as he could, but it was still Sherlock who now that his adult side was in there again, needed more stimulation than the school work he was flying through and playing pirates. It was obvious whatever patience the boy did have was close to wearing thin, as lately he had been becoming more snappy and sulky. John couldn't even bring himself to scold the boy for his behavior because he knew it was their fault for keeping someone with such a need to learn and be active stuck in one spot. So when a flyer came in the mail advertising the circus had come to town, well he spoke with Mary and they decided it was time to go back out into the world and see how it went. After all she had been an agent and he had been in the army. They ought to be able to protect one small child. Perhaps they had forgotten who exactly that child was.

Sherlock had seemed pleased when they came to him and said that they were going on a trip, outside of the flat, the following weekend. John wished he had been reading his facial expressions closer when he mentioned it was a circus. He was so used to little Sherlock not being able to hide his emotions, that he had gotten lax about watching him closely for the emotions that the adult version would hide. If he had looked he would have seen a bit of anxiety cloud the boy's bright eyes. The boy might have normally said something, but he was so sick of only seeing the walls of the flat that he would risk it just to go out and do something.

The rest of the week John relaxed; Sherlock seemed a bit more cheerful and had thrown himself back into his school work and art projects with Mrs. Hudson. He ignored the needling in the back of his mind that something was wrong with this whole thing. It wasn't even something about Sherlock that was giving him the feeling, it was something inside him but he ignored it because Sherlock was happy and that was what was important.

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The morning of their trip John was in the kitchen making breakfast, he had nervous energy to burn off so he may have made a tad more than necessary. Usually danger excited him and made him feel whole but not when it was his child at risk. If he lost Sherlock again he wouldn't survive it, especially knowing it was his fault for letting him out of the flat. It took all of his willpower to not cancel the trip because he knew Sherlock and he knew soon the boy would give someone the slip and leave anyway so he would prefer that it was on their terms so they could be there to keep an eye on him. A chuckle had John looking up from the stove and towards the doorway. Mary stood holding Sherlock in her arms. She was the one laughing while Sherlock just looked wide eyed at the table. John looked himself and finally took it all in.

The table was weighted down with sausage, bacon, scones, casseroles, eggs cooked several different ways and toast. There were fruits, and drinks as well as tea and hot chocolate for Sherlock. On the stove he was making French toast and pancakes and even had some waffles going. Flushing he cleared his throat and smiled at his family.

"Erm...I kind of got lost in thought?" He said smiling when Mary began to laugh again. He looked at Sherlock who was still looking wide eyed at all the food. "Are you ok love?" John asked shutting everything off and going to stand next to the boy putting a hand on his hair gently.

Sherlock looked up at him expression staying the same. "Daddy, how are we gonna eat all that." His voice was panicked; he still had issues eating, which had gotten worse since his adult memories were back.

"It's ok Sherlock, you do the same as normal and eat as much as you can without getting too full and I'll worry about the extra." John said gently kissing the boys temple and feeling him relax.

The three of them sat down and began to eat. As normal, Sherlock played with his food only taking bites when prodded from John and Mary. Finally they got enough in to him that they allowed him to be excused, then they called Lestrade to pick up the rest of the food and share it around Scotland Yard.

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The time had come, they had bundled Sherlock up, he could always remove layers if need be, and piled into the car. John tried to keep his swearing to a minimum as he weaved through the circus traffic to park. He would have rather taken a cab but everyone else in London had had the same idea as there wasn't an empty one to be found. Paying and parking finally happened and they all climbed out. John automatically picked Sherlock up and placed him comfortably on his hip as they followed the stream of people towards the gate where they would purchase their tickets and go in. Sounds from the circus reached them, the snuffle and calls of animals, the ding of games and the chatter of people. John took a deep breath and the smell of circus food made his mouth water in anticipation. He had always loved the circus as a child and it had been a long time since he had been.

Moving to through the line they were finally presented tickets, directed that the actual performances started in an hour and were let in. The first thing to be seen was the main tent where the show would take place. It was huge red and white with muffled noises coming from inside, last minute preparations John imagined. To the left was a cotton candy stand, might as well get started, he grinned stepping up to it.

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Sherlock clenched his daddy tightly when he was picked up. His nose caught everything. He could smell the animals and their waste, the sweat of people, mingled with the food and the car exhaust. Frankly it turned his stomach. It took all his willpower not to cover his ears as each conversation reached his ears and his brain automatically tried to separate each one but couldn't because it was also trying to process all the smells apart and everything he could see. People wearing bright clothes and things that lit up. The circus itself had rides that glowed and blinked making his eyes and head hurt worse. He forced his eyes to remain open though he wanted to close them. He couldn't imagine that it could get any worse and he wanted to do this for John, he could tell how much the man loved the circus and how much it meant to him to share with Sherlock.

Of course not having experience with such things, the boy was slightly shocked to realize that it could in fact get worse. Stepping through the gates suddenly they were being jostled by the masses of people. He had to bite back a whimper when people brushed against him, his bare arm adding the feeling of weird fabrics that just hurt to the list of things overwhelming him. The smells made his eyes water as his eyes darted around trying to pick up everything there was to see. His mind automatically deduced everything and he couldn't slow it down. That clown was paying alimony, the ringmaster was going through a nasty divorce himself, the elephant care taker was sleeping with the bearded lady. That person was only there to stalk his girlfriend, but he wasn't dangerous just upset. Everything swirled in his mind, the smells, sounds, feeling and sight. His breath became short and his hands shook slightly where they grasped Hamish who usually kept him grounded but it was too much here. Nausea rose and he wasn't sure he was going to be able to stop it. An exclamation in his ear was the last straw he broke down completely tears streaming breathes shuddering.

A hand covered one of his ears and pressed his head down gently so his other ear was against John's shoulder. It helped slightly. A voice told him to close his eyes and he obeyed automatically. When the smells started to get fainter he realized they must be moving away. It was enough so he could focus more on the voice whispering to him.

"...ok Sherlock. We're leaving, I'm sorry." It was John. Sherlock felt disgusted with himself, he had ruined John's night anyway. "Sherlock! You haven't ruined anything, this was for you. But we can do something else tomorrow that won't upset you." Sherlock hadn't realized he had spoken out loud. His mind was becoming clouded because he couldn't catch his breath and even John's usual help wasn't doing anything, wasn't breaking through. His mind finally shut off as he passed out against the man's shoulder and knew no more.

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It was Mary who realized something was wrong. John was trying to avoid the people who were crashing into him as he got into line for the cotton candy; he thought Sherlock might like to try it. A tug on his hand had him looking at his wife who was gazing worriedly at his other side. Looking he saw Sherlock's face, ghost white, eyes darting everywhere it seemed at once. He was clenching Hamish and seemed to be shaking.

"Sherlock?" He said gently but that seemed to break whatever hold Sherlock had on himself. He began to gasp fearfully a low keening coming from his throat that the man wasn't even sure the boy was aware of. He quickly put his free hand over the boy's ear and guided his head down so his other ear was blocked too and quickly pushed his way through the crowd. One of the workers noticed their troubles and guided them over to a whole in the fence so they could easily get out. John nodded to him and Mary thanked him as he rushed closer to the car.

"It's ok Sherlock. We're leaving. I'm sorry." His stomach dropped, he should have known this would happen. Sherlock never spent any time in crowds really and he probably had never been to a circus before. He was knocked from his thoughts when Sherlock spoke about ruining his night. He felt his heart freeze. "Sherlock! You haven't ruined anything, this was for you. But we can do something else tomorrow that won't upset you."

He tried to calm the boy down but it was no use, he suddenly slipped unconscious on his shoulder. His breathing was back to normal but even so he had Mary drive so he could sit in the back and monitor the boy.

"Go to Baker Street." He finally said. "He's only sleeping now."

There was silence as they made it home and carried Sherlock inside. Mrs. Hudson met them at the door hovering worriedly that they were home so early; he left Mary to explain as he carried his charge upstairs and sat on the couch holding him close as he covered him with an afghan. Mary appeared at sat next to them and they waited quietly. An hour or so later Sherlock shifted and whimpered slightly.

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Sherlock felt sore everywhere and his lungs hurt, but he seemed to be in a familiar setting. He forced his eyes open relieved to see he was home and with John. He looked up at the man anxiously but relaxed when he saw the gentle look he was giving him. He opened his mouth, closed it, licked his lips and opened it again.

"It's ok." John said knowing to keep his voice very quiet as he spoke to him, but Sherlock had to explain.

"I probably should have told you when I was big. "Sherlock started. "I'm sure you figured out or My told you I'm on the autistic scale. Asperger's. One of things I suffer from because of that is sensory overload." He stopped knowing as doctor and nurse the two of them could fill in the rest.

Suddenly he was being hugged tightly, which he had come to expect and apologies were forthcoming. He tried to tell them it wasn't necessary but looking at their faces he knew that it was helping them so he reluctantly silenced himself. They promised to take him somewhere quiet the next day and put on a movie to watch together. He fell asleep quite happily knowing they still loved him even with what he felt were weird quirks.


	38. Chapter 38

DO NOT OWN! Thank you to "Guest" For the new chapter idea. Please feel free to let me know if you have anymore! Here is bring your child to work day Sherlock style.

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John woke up when a small body bounced on his stomach with excitement. His air left his lungs with a whoosh and he opened his eyes. Grey blue eyes met his with a sparkle of excitement and a wide smile. How could he be mad when Sherlock was finally acting more himself after the circus fiasco. They hadn't ended up leaving the flat the following day, or even days after. The boy had been fighting his mind to delete the feelings of the sensory overload, it had been a trying time. Not that Sherlock had been acting out. In fact he had been silent in his corner with Hamish as he tried to work through it. It was just very difficult for John and Mary when they knew there was really nothing they could do to help except make the boy as comfortable as possible and gently coax him into eating, drinking and sleeping.

The man had been afraid with Sherlock's sudden aversion to leaving the flat, that they had a new problem on their hands. While he always had issues with going out near crowds especially in his young state, he had never been opposed to leaving the flat to do something. THe child and man became bored of the same walls all the time. But it seemed like it was becoming dangerously close to an almost phobic reaction if anyone suggested he take a step outside. It had been John's turn to pester Greg for a case, hoping it would perk the boy up and coax him out. Unfortunately...now he realized he was sounding an awful lot like the consulting detective- the criminals of London hadn't been active lately and there wasn't much going on at New Scotland Yard besides some boring shoplifting cases and the like.

Both parents had been at the end of their rope when a new opportunity had presented itself. Walking into work togetehr one day a pink flyer on the door caught their attention and they paused to take a look. It was advertising a bring your child to work day. It was an effort to get more young people interested in certain fields. The hospital, police station, fireman station and a few other civil servant type places were offering the following week. The two adults looked at each other with a grin. Maybe they had finally found the answer to getting their little one out of the flat again. John assumed the boy would want to shadow Greg for the day so before he began seeing his patients he texted the DI to ask permission. He was of course enthusiastic to have the boy hang around. Satisfied John began to work, happy with their plans and able to concentrate better than he had in weeks.

At home Sherlock had immediately crawled into his lap for a cuddle as he always did when the man returned from being away. John held him rubbing his back gently enjoying his time with the little one. After a bit he nudged him.

"Sit up for a mo. Your mum and I have a surprise for you." John said chuckling when the boy perched on his knee eyes wide eyed with curiosity.

"The city is having a "Bring your child to work day" for all the civil servant type positions." John started. "Greg will be happy to let you shadow him for the day." He said. The boys eyes had grown wide with excitement and delight but then his face grew confused and he swore he saw a flash of hurt before it closed off completely. This was something rather new, Sherlock was falling back into his adult habits of trying to hide his emotions, they weren't sure why he felt he suddenly needed to hide them but luckily he wasn't very good at it so they were both able to call him out on it. John pulled him close and kissed his forehead gently.

"What's the matter love?" He asked softly and soothingly letting him know it was safe for the boy to confide in him.

"I-You-." Sherlock said beginning to get frustrated, tears brightening his eyes.

"Shhhh its ok, calm down and tell me I promise we won't be angry." He whispered rubbing his back consolingly.

Sherlock finally looked at him brokenly. "You don'th wanth me tho come tho work with you?" He finally mumbled. "Did I do something wrong?"

John froze startled as he studied the boy. It never even occured to him that the boy would want to go to the hospital with them. He figured he would jump at the chance to be able to go and spend the day at Scotland Yard. He swore under his breath that he had just assumed without asking. A whimper pulled him from his thoughts and he noted that Sherlock was huddled in on himself clutching Hamish tightly. He had taken too long to answer and the boy assumed he had done something wrong.

"No Sherlock, you have been a good boy like always.' John said immediately scooping him close to his chest. Sherlock attached his arms around his neck immediately accepting the comfort. "Daddy was silly and just assumed you would want to spend the day with Uncle Greg, I should have asked you instead. If you would rather go with me and mummy we would be delighted."

Mary was in the kitchen preparing dinner but she kept an ear out incase she was needed as well, he could tell by the tilt of her head. He smiled internally, another way in which Sherlock was rubbing off on him. Before the consulting detective he never would have noticed the tilt of the woman's head nor what it meant. He would never be anywhere near Sherlock's level in deducing but he definitely had learned enough for it to be helpful, especially in his work.

"I wanth tho go with you n mummy." Sherlock assured him. He grinned softly in delight and began to tickle the boy pleased when peals of laughter came out. "D-addy!" THe boy shrieked in delight.

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So now the day had come and the little boy was perched on his chest impatient to leave. Well that was good, they didn't have to worry about a phobia then he supposed. Sitting up he cradled Sherlock against him so he wouldn't fall. Mary was sitting up on her side of the bed yawning before leaning over to give him a peck on the lips and Sherlock one on the cheek. SHe shimmied out of bed, grabbed her clothes for the day and slipped out to go take a shower and get changed.

John noted with a smile that Sherlock was already dressed in his favorite suit, he had his white doctor coat on under his mini belstaff and Hamish tucked in his holster with his own little doctor jacket on. John wasn't sure how to handle all the cute, reaching for his phone he figured the best way was a picture which he snapped quickly though Sherlock only smiled without a fuss. He was in a good mood taht day.

"All right you little rascal, you go downstairs to the kitchen and decide what you want for breakfast and I'll be down shortly."

"That's Doctor Rascal to you." Sherlock sniffed teasingly as he scrambled down and raced off trotting down the stairs. His high pitched voice began to speak excitedly when he turned inot the sitting room, from what John could tell Mrs. Hudson had come up to see them off.

Ten minutes later he was dressed in a jumper, pair of slacks and his well polished shoes. Going downstairs he was greeted in the kitchen with a cup of tea by their landlady and a grinning child sitting at the table already digging into some waffles and sausage.

"You didn't have to cook." John said pleasanlty surprised as he accepted the tea and kissed her cheek. She giggled and slapped his arm playfully.

"It was no trouble dear, I'll miss my student today so I thought I would come see him for breakfast and well one thing led to another." She waved to the table laden with food. Sherlock picked up his cup of juice taking a deep drink before continuing with his food. This made John grin, the boy was obviously feeling more little today and as such had no trouble at least attempting to eat, though he couldn't always eat very much. Despite fighting with his adult instincts they had managed to get him close to proper weight and while he still was short for his age, he had grown a lot in his time with them.

John sat down next to the boy ruffling his hair before piling up his plate and beginning to eat as well. He put maple syrup on his waffles though he noted per usual that his son ate chocolate syrup on his. He was pleased to note that even though Mrs. Hudson tended to be a softie with him he followed the rules of eating his protein first.

"Good boy." He praised softly heart lightening at the wide pleased grin he received in response. Sincerely Sherlock would be happy for the rest of his life if he never received any gifts or anything, all he wanted was someone to be kind to him and tell him he was good. They were all more than happy to oblige him...as well as spoil him with gifts, though he never actually became spoiled they raised him right after all. When Mary sat, John decided to go over the itinerary for the day so Sherlock would understand before they left.

"So Sherlock, you will spend most of the day with me, if there is a patient where it wouldn't be appropriate for you to be in the room you'll go off with Mary until the next appointment that its acceptable for you to be there, alright?" He was pleased when Sherlock nodded easily. He didn't think it would be too big of deal, the boy loved spending time with both of them but he still had moods where all he wanted was John and no one else would do.

"Can we visit Molly?" Sherlock piped up as he pushed his plate away, he had managed a fair amount that day which was good as it would be very busy for him.

"Sure we can love." Mary responded nibbling at some sausage. They worked directly in ST Barts now and often ran into the young Morgue Technician, she would no doubt be happy to see little Sherlock, she often asked about him though she seemed to be to nervous to actually come visit him despite John and Mary both assuring her that their boy would enjoy seeing her.

Mrs. Hudson brought Sherlock in the living room to spend a bit of time with him while Mary and John took care of the dishes. When they finished up they went to find them in time to see the too hugging goodbye. Mrs. Hudson smoothed his hair and told him to have fun while he promised her he would write her an essay about everything that happened so it would be like she was there too. Nodding her head at the adults the landlady made her way back down to her flat while Sherlock raced over to be picked up by John. He carried the boy downstairs putting him down long enough to pull on his own coat before lifting him again and stepping outside. Since the three of them were going John decided to take the car that day rather than a cab, so the boy could nap on the way home if he wanted. Buckling him in his seat he climbed in the driver seat, letting Mary settle before he started the car and slid into traffic.

Sherlock chattered away in the back seat about what he hoped to see and learn while he was with them. The two adults made the proper noises when required but where content to listen to him speak about everything. Greg of course hadn't had his feelings hurt when he learned Sherlock wanted to go with them. Rather he clapped John on the back and made him promise not to take away his favorite consulting detective to become a doctor or nurse. John assured him Sherlock would grow bored if he had to do that every day and that likely it was interest in seeing what his daddy and mummy did all day rather than a change in careers. To keep the boy entertained in the fairly long commute (Due mostly to traffic) he asked little questions about easy diagnosis. Of course the boy got the answers right every time, smiling in delight.

Finally they arrived and John managed to get a fairly close parking spot, as close as doctors could get anyway. They all piled out and he lifted the boy in his arms. Doctors and nurses streamed towards the doors with their own children of varying ages running after them chattering loudly though all seemed to know they had best not scream if they wanted to remain. Seeing the other children, Sherlock became silent laying his head on John's shoulder seeking safety. John sighed internally, he really wished they could get him over his fear but he didn't want to push it considering he was friends with Sarah and the street boy and his sister. Lots of the children raced up to Mary and himself to greet them having known them from working with their parents for so long. None of them had ever met or seen Sherlock before and were naturally curious trying to get the boy to talk to them and when he didn't directing the questions to John and Mary themselves. They simply explained he was their son and he was a little shy, since he was the youngest there because most kids his age wouldn't be able to pay attention quietly in such a setting the kids understood and moved on to others they wanted to greet.

John and Sherlock left Mary at the nurses station, checking what John's first patient was coming in for before going back to his office. Someone with some pain in his arm, definitely ok to have the little one in there with him, as long as the patient agreed. Mary would ask them first of course and let John know when she came to get him. They saw several patients and none of them had a problem with the boy shadowing his father. A couple elder ladies were especially taken with the small curly haired boy and left him flushing and dazed when they left. He was helpful with the questions, pretended to give Hamish the same check ups his daddy was giving the patients and at one point even deduced something that helped John diagnose someone. It was going well so far.

However that ended the next time Mary came in, she let them know gently that the next patient wouldn't be a good one for Sherlock to be in on. He needed a very in depth exam. Sherlock happily took her hand and followed her back to the nurses station.

"Can we go see Molly now?" Sherlock asked hopefully.

"In a moment dear, let me tell the others where I'm going." She said sitting him down in a chair nearby and going to the desk.

In that moment a woman staggered into the room, blood dripping down her front, where it was coming from wasn't known.

"Help." She pleaded voice gasping as her eyes rolled back in her head and she tumbled to the floor. Sherlock was forgotten as Mary, the most senior nurse ran up to the woman and began barking orders disappearing with the woman on a stretcher to the back. She called back for the nurse at the desk to keep an eye on Sherlock before being gone.

Sherlock sat patiently for what seemed like forever. When he had sat down it had been before lunch time, now it was way after and he was bored. He squirmed in his chair feeling a bit angry that he had been forgotten by both daddy and mummy. The nurse had looked up at him a few times but otherwise ignored him. Slipping silently out of his chair, he sneaked away deciding he would find Molly on his own. He wracked his brain for a map of the hospital and began to weave his way through the hallways avoiding doctors and nurses and trailing after ones that opened locked doors with their id's.

The boy smiled victoriously when going through one last door he recognized himself as being near the morgue. He skipped down the hall humming though he stopped just before bursting in when he heard raised voices. Curiously and a bit nervously he peeked around the corner to look in the room. A man stood, one he vaguely recognized for some reason. Sherlock growled softly when he realized that the man was yelling at a cowering Molly Hooper. The woman stood her ground but her head was bent, eyes filled with tears that she didn't' allow to fall and she was clearly looking for a way out.

"What do you mean you can't show me? It's my father! I have rights! I'll have you sued and you'll never work here again you bitch!" The man screeched at her.

Sherlock got down on his hands and knees and crawled inot the room. He watched very carefully but neither people noticed him as he squirmed under a table nearby. He stood on one side of a table further down and she stood on the other. He smirked when he realized the table was connected to the one he was under so no one would notice if he got closer. Crawling quietly he made his way down. The man was leaning so close his feet were under the table and his voice rumbled from his belly making the table vibrate. He was continuing to belittle Molly as she refused to show him some sort of evidence. OH! Sherlock recognized the voice, the man had been on the news, his father had died recently and at first they had thought it been a heart attack but new evidence (Cough Sherlock cough) suggested that it had been foul play and the man had been murdered. Sherlock had gotten his information from a case file and watching the telly so he hadn't had any suspects but suddenly he knew exactly who had committed the murder and who his next victim would be if Sherlock didn't work fast.

Reaching over he carefully and quietly untied the man's shoes and tied them back together. He had to figure out how to get Molly out of the room, and get the police here. Pulling his phone out he sent John a quick text before thinking quickly. He had a stethoscope in his pocket John had let him use for the day so he felt like he was helping. Crawling down one table he aimed them. He had to be quick to get Molly out of there, it was very likely the man was carrying a weapon and with as angry as he was...the boys phone vibrated in his pocket but he ignored it slinging the stethoscope and turning to climb out from under the table on Molly's side. He heard a clang, the man yelped and turned his tied feet tripping him as he fell.

"MOLLY RUN!" He yelled darting to her and taking her hand dragging her after him. She seemed stunned but did as she was told running after him. They heard screeching and a loud bang. Molly let out a breath and suddenly Sherlock found himself in her arms as she darted around corners. She opened a door and quietly closed it putting him down and sitting protectively in front of him. He struggled the adult in him feeling like he should be protecting her however she scooped him in her arms facing away from the door and cuddled him close rocking him as she was too nervous to actually speak. Sherlock realized he was shaking and making a small keening noise and forced himself to quiet down. His little side really was more in the forefront that day. He clutched her jacket biting his lip fighting not to cry. He wanted his daddy.

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John had been called down to assist with the bleeding woman who had come in. She had been mugged and had a nasty cut across her chest. It took time but they got her calm, cleaned up and stitches. She was resting peacefully in ICU as they continued to run tests and make sure nothing else was wrong. He hadn't been too worried about Sherlock, Mary had told him the boy was being watched by another nurse. Making his way towards the front he figured he would see if he could make it up to the boy with lunch and cake for dessert. He realized then that clumps of nurses were standing nervously together whispering. Uneasily he paused to listen to one such group.

"Police in the morgue. Gunshots. Man killed his father and was threatening Hooper." Why oh why did John have the feeling he was going to find Sherlock in the thick of things. Pulling out his phone he sighed his heart thumping uncomfortably when he saw a lone text from Sherlock asking for him to get the police. And a text from Greg wondering if the boy was with him. He tried Sherlocks phone first but the boy wasn't he took off down the hall back in the other direction towards the morgue. He saw a worried Mary and shook his head, she followed after him. They ran into some uniforms just outside the morgues double doors. He spotted Greg's grey hair and yelled for him.

"Oi mate! I've been worried. Do you have Sherlock? We've got the guy who was shooting up but Molly's missing..." He trailed off when he saw their worried faces. "Bloody hell I was afraid of that!" He pulled out his radio. "Donovan, we aren't just looking for Molly, Sherlock is there somewhere."

It was surprising to John how much Sally had come to care for Sherlock, now she was one of the most protective of him and her anxious squawk over the radio assured him that somehow his boy would be found.

"I need to help look." He said with a dangerous edge letting Greg know he wouldn't take no for an answer. The man nodded and waived his arm in a be my guest gesture. The perp was gone it was safe now, they just needed to find the two missing people.

John started in the morgue lab studying closely. His breath caught as his attention was drawn across the room. He stooped and gently picked up the stethoscope, one he recognized as lending to Sherlock several hours before. He closed his eyes in misery as he thought of the boy quietly giving Hamish a check up earlier that morning. Sincerely he was very close to wrapping the boy in bubble wrap and never letting him out of his sight. How could one person have so much chaos surrounding them? He knew that wouldn't work though, knew that Sherlock needed the freedom to learn and grow though soon John was sure he would have to medicate himself to keep from having an nervous breakdown where the boy was concerned. He was turning to keep looking when Greg and Mary skidded in.

"Donovan found them, their both ok." The best words he'd ever heard.

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Sherlock and Molly had clutched each other anxiously as they waited for some sort of sign everything was ok. The boy tilted his head at one point and smiled when he recognized what he was hearing.

"Ith's ok now Auntie Molly." He said encouragingly and tried to scramble for the door. He felt himself being picked up and held while Molly gently cracked the door open. Only when she also heard Sally Donovan's voice did she relax though she didn't put the boy down only hugging him closer. She stepped out from the closet and waited as the other woman spoke in her radio and ran towards them.

She was speaking to Molly but Sherlock could see the blond woman wasn't really hearing and when Donovan tried to take him away from her the smaller woman actually bared her teeth and backed up squeezing him tightly. Sherlock didn't move, she was in shock and if he tried to squirm things could get a lot worse. He was starting to ache from being held so hard but he kept his silence though his face must have showed his pain because Donovan was back on the radio calling for Lestrade, daddy and mummy advising them that something was up with their favorite technician.

It wasn't long before he heard their footsteps though when they got closer he let out a whimper as the arms held him tighter and backed away.

"Leave him alone!" Molly said eyes dazed and a little confused.

Sherlock watched as his daddy motioned everyone back before turning to face them. He gave Sherlock an encouraging smile before raising his hands in a show of peace and spoke softly to Molly.

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John ran with the other two when Donovan burst on the radio saying something was up with Molly and that she wouldn't release Sherlock. Being a doctor he had a pretty good idea what it was but he kept the thoughts to himself until he actually got there and could see with his own eyes. Rounding the last corner he stepped up next to Donovan though his eyes were on the smaller woman and the boy in her arms. She appeared to squeeze him tighter and he heard Sherlocks whimper. Normally that would put John in a rage and whoever made that noise would be on the other side of his fists. But this was molly and she would never purposefully hurt anyone but especially Sherlock. Her crush had finally faded but she was still loyal to the consulting detective. Studying her face he knew she was in some sort of shock her eyes were glassy and she didn't seem to be seeing them, her body was hunched protectively over Sherlock's. She seemed to think they were being attacked and she was attempting to keep the boy safe.

"Get back." He ordered the other three and waited until they slipped around the corner out of sight but in hearing distance before turning back to the others. He put his hands up to show he had no weapons before slowly walking towards them. "Molly, its alright. It's John, John Watson. I just want to make sure you and Sherlock are safe." More tightening and another small whimper from the boy. John paused but didn't stop talking. "Molly you're hurting Sherlock and I know you don't want that. You are both safe. Please let me look at you both." He kept talking to her calmly and quietly but he never got any closer so she wouldn't squeeze the slight child in her arms. Apparently she was stronger than she looked.

Finally he watched as her eyes seemed to clear and she got a hold of herself. She looked around nervously spotting him. "John? I'm sorry...I didn't mean...I didn't' know..." The woman babbled though she stopped when Sherlock put a hand on her cheek. She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I didn't know Sherlock was there until he climbed out from under the table and told me to run."

"Molly." John said stunned moving towards them slowly. "I'm not angry with you, even if you had known Sherlock was there it wouldn't have been your fault. That man should never have been here. Thank you for keeping him safe. " He reached for Sherlock and this time she passed him over immediately. Sherlock curled up against his neck shaking very slightly.

"Oh but John, Sherlock saved me. I don't know what he did but he caused a distraction and made it so we could run away." Molly said stumbling over her words as Mary and Greg appeared. The blond woman went up to the brown haired one and began to check her over gently. While she did that John took a quick look over Sherlock, but besides being a bit clingy which was understandable, he appeared fine. Greg pulled them aside.

"What happened Sherlock?" The boy explained how he had been taken out and left with the nurse at the desk who ignored him while daddy and mummy worked on an important case. Sheepishly he said how he had gotten upset he had been forgotten and ignored and decided he would go see Molly on his own, he swore looking at John, that he didn't know there was a crime in progress. He didn't want to get in trouble for trying to solve a case on his own again. John kissed his curls and assured him he was not, before he continued to explain how he had hid, tied the shoes together and what happened after. The two men couldn't help but roar in laughter.

"A multi millionaire tripped up by his Italian leather shoes." Greg said in delight ruffling Sherlock's hair. "Blimey kid you keep me young."

John stepped back with Sherlock while Mary, Molly and Greg spoke. A poke on his shoulder had him tilting his head to look at the boy.

"Can we go home?"The boy asked, looking so very young and sleepy.

"Yea love." He looked at Mary who waved at them to go.

"Ill get a lift with Lestrade. " She assured her husband. The man nodded and turned to take Sherlock home.

"I'm proud of you for saving Molly and getting out of there." John praised, he knew it was probably because Sherlock's younger mindset was in control but either way he was glad he didn't try to fight or chase after the bad guy, just save his friend.

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Hope that was ok, any other suggestions for chapters would be greatly appreciated! No beta so my mistakes are my own :). Flames will be used for s'mores.


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